I have a mind full of unsaid things.
A drawer full of unworn rings.
If I had a dollar for everytime, I said what I felt.
Id be broke but contempt with myself. 
Cause some things are better off left as words unsaid. 
Letters unread.

Because when you ask me to speak my mind and I actually do.
I can feel myself slowly starting to lose.

Because you can't handle the complexities of what goes on in my cranium.
Trying to unlock my thoughts is like breaking titanium. 
Because the person who holds the key is me.
Just me.
And I'm fine with that, actually I'm kind of happy. 
I don't need you to tell me that's it wrong, bad, or unhealthy.

Because you can't handle me.
So I wouldn't dare put me in your hands.
Cause for me to let you in, and then watch myself slip will break me.

So I have a mind full of unsaid things.
But a notebook full of words that would make you scream.
Peering into my head, is opening a page. 
I promise you, you won't get past the Table of Contents babe.