This pain it keeps me up at night
It's hard to breathe, it keeps me retreated
Wounded, bruised, battle torn
But like a good soldier, I carry on
I keep it buried away, slowly digging my grave
Feeling trapped by this pain, it's become too heavy to bear
Pride won't let me show it, it comes before the fall,
It won't let me scream out for help
This pain I carry all alone, I brought it on my self
Perhaps it's meant to teach me something, I just refuse to learn
Sometimes, it's ok to quit, it's ok to say I'm done
But, until I learn that lesson
This pain will keep me up at night
I have of late taken the view that no matter how rebellious, unconventional, non-conformist we would like to think ourselves, we are at some point always part of a similar grouping of people. We are never truly leaders, but followers. Followers, I prefer to refer to us as sheep; because at one point or another in our life we are all sheep. This is a place to express myself, vent my frustration with the sheepdom, and relieve my boredom. It is my therapy for all that contributes to my neurosis.
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