Giving up this rest of piece,
Climb up to the plain,
Where you and them walk,
Above where I've lain,
I want to seek you out,
And build back what we've been,
I want to be a piece of your love,
Yet here I must stay,
Some come visit me again,
Right here,
Someday...

I don't write for you
not at all
so don't get all high and mighty on me
i write for myself and those special few
if your thinking like this
then
well
Its definitely not you

Writing is my escape
I write to disarm the contentious feelings I have
Because Nobody understands me
I know I lack empathy
I know because I cut it out of me
I function better without it
Smiling is my defence
It's my protection from people
It's my recompense
If they think your fine they leave you alone
They assume your fine that you'll make it home
Act dangerous people ignore you
Act homicidal they completely avoid you
I prefer the latter
Saves me the trouble of an emotional splatter (that feeds
my demons)
Less people less problems
I feel the haze that prevents me from finding who I am
It's clearing and I'm scared of what I see...

Well I see you've found another
You turned you back
And sent me away
As you chose to move on with them
Nice choice.
I might go make the same.

While I sit here
In the while padded walls of my head
In this straight jacked of other people's problems.
I sit and I struggle to get them off
To get them out
I want to help them I do!
I really do...
But sometimes it's hard
I want to help I do
But
I'm drowning
In the swamp of other people's problems
The swamp. That I jumped into