Anger's like a battery that leaks acid right out of me
And it starts from the heart 'til it reaches my outer me

Lingering, bottled-up anger never reveals the 'true colors' of an individual. It, on the contrary, becomes all mixed up, rotten, confused, forms a highly combustible, chemical compound then explodes as something foreign, something very different than one's natural self.

I think a lot of psychopaths are just geniuses who drove so fast that they lost control.

But Hey, Guess What
Crazy means I'm not liable
for my actions. So screw it,
I'll go home, propped up on
Prozac against distractions

There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn't.

To think too much is a disease.