My head is foggy
With thousands of thoughts,
Making it uneasy,
By forming several knots.
Getting tangled with truths and lies,
You watch yourself choking on reality,
Still unsure of making any allies,
There's so much load you have to carry.
It's okay to grieve,
It's okay, not to feel fine,
When we don't believe,
That everything will fall back to line.
My hands shake,
When I try to paint or pen down;
Mess is the only thing that I can make,
It's all inside me and you ask me not to frown.