The Feeling

Heavy’s having cuts you don’t remember.
It’s having scars you don’t believe.
It’s waking up every single fucking day,
hoping that you’re anyone but me.
It’s the struggle to breathe,
under the weight of who you’re trying so hard to be.
It’s the lies.
It’s the truth.
It’s the mask.
It’s what I do.
So, what’s heavy to you?
Every fucking day, I wake up in pain.
Life is such a burden, when you live my way.
I’m always losing who matters most.
Every single of my loved-ones are all ghosts.
Fuck the heavy weight of depression, running through my mind.
I’m fucked.
I can’t believe this is the hand that’s been dealt for me.
Heavy is the mask that hides the frown,
but won’t let me keep my head down.
It’s a feeling that comes without a sound.
But, if you scream,
you can let it out.
So, what’s heavy to you?
Better bury me in concrete.
Keep my limbs from spreading throughout the innocent ground.
A Glasgow kiss for the world’s vile face.
The plants will sip my blood.
The beasts will eat my tongue.
The cycle of consuming the living ones.
Heavy is the mask that hides the frown,
but won’t let me keep my head down.
It’s a feeling that comes without a sound.
It keeps me up all night, staring at the ceiling.
It makes me choke, when I am breathing.
It’s learning to love all of my demons.
It’s just that mother fucking feeling.