Feeling like a clown around old friendsTending to be giddy and not matureBetter when suppressing my natural bentAnd ugly when I’m straying from my better characterThey’re whispering softly to methe angels and poets watching meCalming my fears and my woesfor stressing the paths that I have chosenSecret pains will eat your whole aliveThe ones you’ll certainly bottle up foreverFestering inside until you dieNo purging this decay outside confessionThey’re whispering softly to meadvisors from my own reasoningWarning that these are dire straitshurry, prescriptions should be placedI can look into my rectitude and see darknessthe anger from the sadness from the trialsthat started with loveThe guiding voice that keeps my pace alive is singing lullabiesIt’s quiet- not a peepIt’s sent the kid to sleeplong enough I findthat it keeps my spirits charged with lullabiesI can look into my solitude and see confusionthe boredom from the excitement from finding my nichethat started with love