scattered, phony demons.
I'm right on the edge, above a bottomless pit.
Compelled to confess that I'm far from content.
Alive but I'm broken, my pieces are scattered.
These words go unspoken like none of it mattered.
A stranger to doubt, this fear is so foreign.
A happiness drought, But the darkness is pouring.
No wonder I'm lonely, and one of the reasons,
is I feel like a phony for taming my demons.