She's questioning why the tape wont stay on the wall
She's processing an escape through a bathroom stall
Procrastination flows naturally in her veins
She starts an journal as a way to vent, to keep her sane
And thinking's dangerous when she's in this kind of state
She draws a picture of her path, her chosen fate
She screams at the top of her lungs, without even opening 
her mouth
She's feeling forlorn, and isn't ready for depression in 
this amount
She's pulling on the paper, to just hear a rip
What's she to do, when everyone see's her imperfectness?
Struggle and Confusion
Anxioty and Stress
This is her. . .
At her best