If everything is just fine.
                                   Then why am I bleeding?

                       Is this bitter life just ever force feeding.

                   The tiny yellow pills that allow one to hold still
                          Doing a backstroke inside my brain,
                            trying to help me live a life,
			               Politcally Correct.

				      So that I no longer have the ablity to reflect...

                     I'm supposed too forget the world around, 
                           Not have a care, a thought or a sound...        

                        Waves trying too make me become, 
				    However with every typed letter
                         In this commen phrase

                           In a induced tranquil haze

                 I become numb,
                        So that I cannot feel what you have done...

                   Will I just forget about forgetting, 
                         how to contemplate...


                Possibly before I die you will tell me a lie,

                         Then I may see the falseity that it is...
					   In that final moment, before I truthly rest.


                          Hopefully, atleast I will see,
			                the drugs and the pills,
                               Never made any diffrence

                    Becuase it's scocity's indirect ways
                      That have brought upon my indoctrinated haze

                         So, before I depart.
                              Should I foget too start?

                       Maybe I will forget to end this anyway...

                                     2004