There’s nothing left inside me
That could keep me coming back
Was once a hand to my cheek
Now it’s a bullet to my back.

The skin, it might heal over
And no one might ever know
But the bullet will remain
With a warning to bestow.

I wouldn’t say I’m stronger
I’ve been weakened from the pain
But the weakness is a lesson
Don’t make the same mistake again.

She sits in her chair
She sips her hot tea
She looks out the window
She longs to be free.

She could open that door
But her hand quivers so
She’s scared of the life
That she doesn’t well know.

So she sips and she sits
And she looks on the street
And wonders and worries
About the people she’d meet.

One day the door opens
She could go out and see
But she sips and she sits
Yet she longs to be free.

Her hands are stained with past mistakes
Her tears are thick with rage
She is helpless as her weak heart breaks
She’s stuck inside this cage.

She’s felt this many times before
She fears it’s much too late
Too scared to strive for something more
She hides behind her fate.

The room around her closes in
She sits motionless and weeps
Watching the depression win
Only happy when she sleeps.

If she wanted she could leave her hell
But she just won’t turn the page
Too scared to leave what she knows so well
Stuck inside this cage.

Why must I always think in verse?
Is it a talent?
More like a curse
All day long songs pour through my head
But before they hit paper, they're usually dead
A few survive, most get archived and others quickly deleteted
It doesn't take more than a couple of lines to know you've been defeated

To stay out of trouble
is to live in your bubble
'Don't mingle'- not subtle
when you end in the rubble.
Became a social butterfly
only to hear the distant battle-cry
as arrows struck you from up high
& you began think, 'I'd rather die'
than carry the weight- 'misunderstood'
from societal challenges- understood-
risk your peace - do you think you would?
to become a figure - appearing 'good'.