Depressed In October

I'm so broken i can't be fixed.

They've decided to continue my suffering for their profit.

Became dumb and numb, and we will get rich from you.

They reveal secrets that do not improve my life.

I think I'm lost again.

I've forgotten the good times.

I've forgotten family, and all I have are enemies, grudges . . . and spies.

I'm bad again.

There's no cure.

I have thought to run,

But they held me there with a gun

They said "don't fucking move."

There's something we have to prove.

I have thought to run, but they found a way to track me.

I'm prey and God doesn't seem to listen. This is their vision:

A concrete jungle and white brick prison.

I've counted time, I've stayed alive; for war is kind.

I need a tissue.

I need a different perspective.

Am I as great as I believe I am?

Or is that the distortion that I have planned.

I am one or am I j just human?

This is not who I was supposed to be.

I worked harder than most and my gift was trees.

A bug and a bird and the bees stung me.

I've lost all control, and now I'm ugly.

I've always thought of greatness, and I'm broken with a glance.

Great thoughts can be broken with a glance.

I wonder if I take all of my depressants will the lesson finally set in.

I've lacked touch.

I've lacked love.

Love was never given to me.

I watch porn too much.

I don't fuck enough.

I'd fuck all of you up.

I have an answer and I'm smart and strong.

I have no people to sing my songs.

I'm a drifter, a bastard, a bitch, and a snitch.

I'm the baddest mother Fucker who never did shit.

I was told that I am great, my poems are good, I'm worth more than this elephant hood.

But no connection, no plans, not a drink at the bar or a job I can have.

I support myself with my own hands, surrounded by treachery in a thoughtless land.

I've not chose to be here or to be me.

But this is who I am.