Best of This

The songs I write for show and tell are like an open letter And as I get to know myself you get to know me better And the topics that feature More often they each have a Healing power over me, I'm no preacher But if I write down what's inside now it'll teach you The reasons I'm down so when I frown I don't need you I'm just focused on hosting a host of emotions nobody knows of Surely someone feels this hopeless and broken, right? Speak up it's an open mic, can you relate to me? This question's like gym sessions We'd just to wait to see the gains: softly talked about Pain: well it's awfully loud I spot a helper that I need to lift this weight for me Wait for me! Don't leave me here in Mourning It's not my favourite place to be I visit every morning But before I could finish My tour guide had all but diminished All in an instance He was gone in the distance I don't remember this Gotta make the best of this I'm not prepared for this. I've gotta make the best of this Finished off my daily spar with Grief and left the gym Misery wanted some company I left with him Anxiety keeps finding me I'm tired, nothing left within I'm telling Stress about my stress it seems I'm even stressing him And he's seen it all 1st, 2nd, 3rd world problems, even 4th, even more He told me: "Liam here's the score Take your chance, here's the door Make a stand - here's your floor Turn the crying to a roar You can't do both it's either or I've had a couple ups and downs Versing the Adversity I beat him in a couple rounds Or so I thought but now he keeps on getting off the ground Asking me to knuckle up and I'm just trying to knuckle down Oh No Here comes Fear and Paranoid I've been ignoring all their calls I fear I've got the pair annoyed What's that smell? Failure That's just my next door neighbour Heavy smoker, never joking Grind you up and exhale ya I don't remember this Gotta make the best of this I'm not prepared for this. I've gotta make the best of it though This is the company I keep right now It's 3 am and I can't sleep right now Not a wink & That turns to a lot of thinking I burn through a lot of ink & My girl knows not an inkling Until I pause and it pours out my pores And I'm forced to ignore All these thoughts but I'm tortured No torch and No light here before me I'm frightened I'm tired It gets fraught My Chest tightens, breath short My heads like a chess board Get's set for the next war Each night I get prepped for The next dawn I guess "mourning's" Called that for a reason right? My King crossed over, that's sorta of like treason, right? (WRONG!) He was a prisoner of war: P.O.W. Mum kissed him on the forehead we see what it's done to you Darling you must go where this C-Word won't trouble you Gone but not forgotten now we'll keep what we love of you If this is what they call heartache How much can my poor heart take?