I admit I'm not tough...
I can't handle much... Or at least not at once.
Sometimes I cry and I can't sleep at night. I'm stressed out,
It broke me.
I'm afraid, but I'm still hoping, that it will be better tomorrow.
Don't worry about me, I know I'll be fine!
I'm still standing tall. I refuse to fall.
You asked where my mind is,
It's,"lost in a song."
There are tunes I know well, and there are sick beats I've heard.
Rhythm is my opiate for when I feel insecure, it's my cure.
All music is welcome in my mind, doesn't matter. It's accepted with exception of any time, key, or pattern...
And when I shut out the hurt, and feel the keys of my piano, it keeps me from crying, or feeling like whining...
...my sweet relief of being saved from dying.
Music, in my mind,
is that fine line between
fighting and surviving.