MENTALLY ANGUISHED

If a picture is worth a thousand words, and I can define my life with WHY, does that mean a picture is worth more than me.
And if I do onto others what had been done onto I, does it really come back three times three.
Plus I wonder why lovers argue, and cry, when i have no lover to see.
This pain, and this anguish cover my mind, like a shad of a willow from it's leaves.
These thoughts paint my face pale, white as the clouds of day, and pushes me forth to face real because reality is in my way.
It's my fault of course to absorb such pains of all sorts, and walk the path i apparently paved.
So I'll just lay here in hurt until my tears turn to dirt, and i eventually become my grave...