By Arcassin Burnham

It would make sense,
Not seeing faces,
Not being good with other faces,
But possess open spaces,
Grew up enough to know how to tie my shoe laces,
Four walls are around me,
But I just keep pacing,
Make myself look presentable,
Cause when I get released its mutual,
And even though its not missable,
To me being apprehensible,
Four walls are surrounding,
Sitting against one of em,
Just sitting,
Alter the past and take back what I did,
Expecting me to give up and fall again,
Accepting the bad times I get,
More than I can give,
If you're expecting unretaliation,
Your sadly mistaken.