winter day
the cold burns
the music in my brothers room is loud
so i walk downstairs and outside
to the garage
and stand silent in the bitterness of winter
angry that i cannot have loud music
angry that i am not my brother
my heart thunders in my chest as i read the written phrase
this was madness in its infancy
this twisted place
i called home
this paper thin disguise
that hides us all
from ourselfs
she looked at me
but i could not see her
i could only see what i could not feel
this paper thin disguise
ugly and distorted
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
winter day
the cold burns
the music in my brothers room is loud
so i walk downstairs and outside
to the garage
and stand silent in the bitterness of winter
angry that i cannot have loud music
angry that i am not my brother
my heart thunders in my chest as i read the written phrase
this was madness in its infancy
this twisted place
i called home
this paper thin disguise
that hides us all
from ourselfs
she looked at me
but i could not see her
i could only see what i could not feel
this paper thin disguise
ugly and distorted
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