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I can’t remember when I last felt okay. Left hanging on all the words they say. A lie sold as a promise to be free, A false hand stretched out for me. I fell for it ‘cause tears can cloud the eye, I reached up but they still left me to die, But when you’re
Do ever wonder why I left so quickly? After all you think you’ve picked for me? Do you know why I left without a goodbye? Do really think that I never fucking try? I keep spinning this web with a loom I use to pull myself out of the tomb That you dug me in,
Piles of books lie where the mountain of responsibility hides. I am lost in the depths of my unwillingness to fulfil the desires of others. One in which I have grown to accept as my own. The anxiety cripples my will to fulfill, to change, to finish what I started. My priorities lie where they
Blending in, Through her skin, With a marvelous glow. In the night, Or in the light, Her colors don’t show. Plain as day, tucked away. Hidden in plain sight. Will she cry, wonder why, No one sees her blight? Is she home? Does she roam? Does she mean to lie? Is she alone? Is she
Roots are not in sight In the light, In all their might. Room to grow, Undertow, Secrets to know. They are the key, Set free, Under the tree.
White tile floor, yellow walls, Looking at the only one who knows. Your eyes are telling me a story, What loneliness does when it grows. You take me back four years, when you walked in the door, You wanted to start over, You wanted something more. You tried so hard to find a friend, One
I once had a wart on my dominant hand, With oozing white puss my mom couldn’t stand. But I liked watching the skin decay, And slowly peel off every single day. With blood that bubbled underneath, I wanted to rip it off with my teeth, But my mom said an absolute “no, To the doctor
Why did she try? Every time she heard her heart cry, She told herself another lie, Against the values she lived by, Yes, I know why she’d try. Why did she try to fit in? When all she saw was girls so thin, And all the games she couldn’t win, She hid behind a false
Dum, dum, dum, slow beating of the drum Rit, rit, rit, Ripping the skin off my thumb. goose bumps rising on my skin, Anticipation of what’s to begin. Dum, dum, dum Louder, louder still this strum. Skrit, skrit, skrit, The scraping of my cerebrum. Tossing, turning the pain within, My breast made of porcelain. Dum,
Sy Redemption 