The Color of My Psyche Is Black

believe me,

i hear these,

awful things inside my head,

you should be dead,

i think them sometimes too you know,

my feelings move from hot to cold,

frigid as ice and smoking hot coals,

it's a mystery and

it frightens me.

i've never been good at saying help me,

i spill my feelings but they never really felt me,

and spilling feelings to a Steve in a chair

with a penchant for analyzing squares isn't healthy.