Your Pessimistic Bullshit

The world didn’t condemn you,
It never slit your throat and said
“This is how I’ll end you.”
‘Cause there’s beauty
in a voice so broken,
And it’s one I yearn to hear.
Because I sang that tune in fear,
Till the day I almost died.
And if I had,
Just know I’d be forgotten.
But instead I’m sitting here,
Screaming in your ear
That you are not forgotten,
Listen closely.

This pessimistic bullshit that you leave in trails
is nothing but a deadbeat critic.
You have lost control.
Life is something that entails,
Finding peace of mind
and I hope this letter
finds you just in time.

‘Cause I’ve been where you stood.
Thought my words of deep depression
were not some sick infection of
who I had become.
Slowly I understood that when
the world beats you down,
it means, don’t make a sound.
Joy is merely found,
in the pieces left around.
Who are you,
if not what you’ve been told?
In this you’ll find your soul has not been sold.

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