Mad Muddles...

I don't think you understand...?

This me, here, you see isn't what I planned...

It's like I know everything & haven't learnt a thing...

I'm on a constant land slide, self destructing from within...

How can I climb out of the mess I'm in...?

Has this always been...?

I can't find nothing to hold on too, this I swear is true...

I'm at a loss what to do...

Even psychiatrics haven't got a clue...

They say 'there's no help for someone like you'...

Even my demons don't know what to say... 

I walk in, they run away...

I talk to myself almost everyday... 

Even I get bored with the things I constantly repeatedly say...

Change the record...

I would if I could...

but what music would I play...

Anything I hear you say... But anything else would take all day...

Because me, here, doesn't want to go away...

So I better get my wellies ready for yet another muddy day...

Because down I go on my mud-slide of display with uncertainty I'll ever make it to the top...

Maybe that's my fear...?

I don't wanna flop from up top...

Then why open your big fat gob...?

Keep it shut, full stop... 

Stick with the muddle you seem to like quite a bit in your puddle...

And stop talking, repeating the same shit...

Start walking, Instead of talking...

No one, Including you is expecting that mad muddle shit to stop...