I want to yell across the entire universe, about
how close my heart is at exploding from the
constant pressure, caused by indestructible demons.
Demons that dance to the symphony of my broken dreams.

But if I really got the chance to speak up
my mind, I'd rather sew up my lips
so no pitiful words of hope can interfere with
the reality that kicked me down in the first place.

Having someone to care seems more scary than the
endless hole I'm falling through; My last cry for help
is now dying in my throat, mingled with the other
unspoken opportunities of a better life.