What everyone sees on the outside is a man who’s trying
But what’s happening on the inside is that he feels like he’s dying
Or wishing that God will take the pain away
And all folks ever tell him is that he needs to have faith and pray
But they don’t see that he’s more and more checked out
Unable to see the light
And filled with doubts
He’s losing everything that he loves
He chooses to engage in physical and mental battles
Instead of removing the gloves
He ain’t really fighting me
The battle is within
But where can he be safe?
No therapist
No savior
No confidant
No friends
So instead, he becomes one with the green
Sometimes 2 to 3 times a day
That’s the only thing to keep the chaos at bay
Calm enough to eat and find rest
Just to wake up hours later trying to do his best
But it’s not just the weed that pulls him away
Some find their escape in alcohol’s embrace
Drowning their doubts with every sip
Hoping the numbness will quiet the grip
That fear and failure have on their soul
But every bottle emptied takes its toll
Others choose to sleep, to slip into dreams
Where the world isn’t as heavy, or so it seems
They close their eyes and shut it all down
But they wake up still wearing the same old frown
The weight hasn’t lifted; the pain remains
It’s just delayed by a few hours of escape from the strain
So how does the cycle end?
What can break through this dark spell?
He has to dig deep within
Or forever live in mental hell
