Sometimes I think I'm going crazy,
I know it sounds like a cliche ,
But I'm being deadly serious ,
I have to question this.
Some of my paths and visions are all grey
Things iv said, planned, or done ,
I have no recollection of who's voice it belonged.
I watch my mother ,
How out of touch with the world she is.
I try to dodge the fragments as they fall
From her towards me,
It's all distort but I see her looking back at me
Mistakes she's made , bad luck, misfortune , it's difficult for me.
I feel bad - I should be proud
Her life I don't envy .
But everyday a piece escapes the reflection
And there is no way I can avoid where this is heading.
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