I prick my finger
From a rose with a thorn
A reminder that our children
Are of the purest form

A mirror reflection of body we are
The more I look the more that I scar
The more that I scar the better I feel
In this crazy world that seems unreal

The whole world is my stage
It helps cover my fear
For we are all merely actors
According to Shakespeare

When I speak of the truth it feels like a noose
That's slowly stretching my neck
And then when I lie the noose opens wide
And postpones the decent to my death

I feel so amused or maybe confused
Of the thoughts that run through my head
It's just so unfair with these thoughts I compare
My whole life I just can't stay ahead

Is it me, is it you
Is it life, is it truth
Is it destiny or time
Is it yours, it is mine

I don't know, but I hope it comes soon
Because it HURTS