The walls are thin
and I can hear them
talking about me.

They don't bother to whisper,
shouting my faults
insults
teases
blaming me
for all that is wrong.

The walls are thin,
and even blasting my music
lovely lana
cannot drown out their curses.
but the walls don't really matter.

Funny,
people drive me home
and they say
they wait
to make sure I get inside safe,
but don't wait
to make sure I come out safe.
One foot in the door
and the insults come rushing
it's a battle to breath
only harsh cruel words are spoken
and my silence cannot lessen them.

Every breath I take
is deserving
of a slap in the face
and screams
inches from my heart
the air is cold
and tense
so I keep the lights off
so the only light
comes from my computer
where I can hide away
in fictional stories
and superheroes
wishing I was one of them.

The walls are thin
the walls don't matter
it's like they're not there at all
I'm always under attack
getting text messages at school
to let me know how bad I am
I have nowhere to run
nowhere to go
no place to stay
I'm stuck fighting every night
bones too weak from the fight
to get up each morning
the best I can do
is stay barely alive
seconds from tears
hoping one day
I can be liberated.

For the hearts of the free and the home of the slaves.

I'm trying to find the girl with the crooked eye, who stole my heart before I could reach the sea.
They warned me "old soul watch her close"
Yet I dared to venture forth.
Her eyes were prisons holding you in their reach. Ripping away slowly at your insecure sanity.
Her lips a sweet poison.
Dancing about words sank into you as if fangs punctured your flesh.
"Watch her motions not her words"
Her fingers slide across my temple.
My skin creeping as her touch possesed my pores.
Ahh a rage fills my lungs
How convincing how deceiving how quickly she ran away with my heart
I fiddle my thumbs in frustration devastation humiliation
"I told you so.." an out pour of laughter as the elders heard of my disaster.
I am no longer the master
Just a capture
Locked behind her eyes
Oh how cruel how shrewd
I'm the fool that sings the blues.

Secondhand smoke
cough
Chronic coughing inhale the poisonous atmosphere.
cough
I wish I could clear my lungs yet arguments about stupid **** infest the walls
Deep breath
What exactly is fresh air?
Loud bangs echoe through my insides nowhere to hide
My mind drained in the lies
And dear God I swore secondhand smoke was a lie

I feel trapped and,
It's not yearning anymore.
Because a little bit of yearning is at least healthy.
It's just the hours,
That we have to face.
Before and after.
The ones that require effort.

And the songs that just break your heart.
My god who knew that he first three chords,
Could bring you back two years.
And completely rip out your insides.
I'm trying to force myself not to press play.

But oh my god,
To feel something passionate once again,
Even if it's sadness.
I feel free for a second.
But then I have the hours after to face,
Trapped.

You're acidic
And you know it
And you're pretty cocky about it.
But really,
You're on the level of orange juice.

But I guess that can be dangerous.
I guess it causes more damage.
I mean,
How many times a day
Will I come into contact
With hydrochloric acid?

I don't know anymore,
Even the biggest waves crash.

Major tortoise and the hare syndrom right now.
Cold shakes.
I'm sleeping on the opposite end of the bed
With the fan on high.

I don't know where I am.