Torn apart and pushed away,
I die a little with each new day.
Trying so hard to make the right choice,
I call out for help but none hear my voice.
I fill my body with chemicals on my own accord,
Spinning off money I cannot afford.
But that's not the worst part because when I am High,
the answers I seek keep on passing me by.
I wish I could free my head from this cloud,
So I can think clearly, stand tall and be proud.
In every creature that god ever made,
Lies inner beauty no scholar can grade.
The path I am on ends in a pine box
Maybe then I won't fiend for more rocks.