I hope that one day it'll all make sense,

But until then I'm stuck living in the past-tense,

This isn't my choice, it's against my will,

Because I can't tell my brain how to feel,

They say we grow from our life experiences,

But I'm struggling to do that, in all seriousness,

People tell me that I have a beautiful skill,

That I can make one feel my mind by words that are real,

But lately I find it to be more of a burden,

Thoughts that I can't stop from turning,

One day...I hope not so far away,

I just may...actually make it, to their dismay.