Turn To The Ink

I think my life really stinks
Every situation I always over think
I should probably talk to a shrink
Instead I prefer to turn to the ink

I feel like I am in a drought
Myself I always seem to doubt
True feeling hidden and never talked about
Sometime I just want to stand up and shout

I feel like I am invisible
In my own skin I am uncomfortable
Life seems to be so expendable
Peace found only when my designated plot is full

No death wish but not afraid to die
Few close friends because I am so shy
Untrusting of those who tell a lie
Admiration for the birds flying high in the sky.