This shit burns on the nerves and I keep telling myselft that I learned.

I'm confessin' this obsession with the way things play out.
I'm up I'm down I'm safe I'm sound
I can't get high and I can't be loud
I can't look if my eyes can't see
but you're telling me my brain can't be as it is
for it'd score poorly in the form of a test or quiz

and because life is a business you must market yourself
and produce consistent results from assembaly to shelf
so you give me these pills and you say this should help

now I don't mean to yell
but these pills are from hell
I talked calculations and solved conversations
'til halfway through the day when my false wind blew and my equilibrium spun.

this mental crash is not rewarding
i felt myself slip from my molding
and crack pandoras box that my inside's holding
with more than enough impatience to dispurse among the nations

combined as the man of one thousand faces
and the collective bad luck of breaking ten thousand vases

fists clench and i am still not satisfied
pets drench and i release thought i presucceded to subside
and this is how you spell relief?
I call it a pilferage of peace
shouting fingers pointing hipocracies

depression, regression, omission,
in no way does that spell efficient
but my brain's off making patterns while i'm pissin'
and my eye won't fucking stop twitchin'

Adam Thoms

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-should-help/