it rains pain but I act like it don't bother me. but obviously,it's only a matter of before shit starts causing grief. I'll never show that I am weak ,but I am weak but its something you never see. but it will probably be the death of me. eventually. I just feels that's what it's meant be. screaming out to God on bended knees. but the devil keeps befriending me. and I take the bait knowing he's my enemy. you'll never see it physically, but mentally it's stressing me. backing against the wall pressing me. or is it God really testing me. mixing me in a pot like part of his recipe. yeah blame it on everything, but it's me. who makes a mess of me. I cause the foul and don't want the penalties, my depression arresting me. try to fight back but I don't hit anything just empty swings.