It's not a lie, or even a crime.
Blame myself not torturing your own mind.
I'm not any special, moreover one of a kind.
Have you ever been in a crowd,
But you're feeling lonely,
Lonelier than you ever were,
That you decide to move away,
Lock yourself in a room,
Being quieter than any space,
At the same time,
It's the loudest room you ever be in,
Just you, and your thoughts,
Suicidal thoughts; to be precise?
Afraid to go out,
To see the world,
Pushes away every single person that get near you,
Kicks away every positive thoughts,
That trying to get inside your mind,
Or even physically,
When your brain and your soul don't match,
That's my everyday, though.