Where do I stand? Amongst the broken or amongst the strong,
A destructive song to whistle pass oncoming traffic,
Oh tragic how the tunes I hear in my head are much louder
than the clouded judgements of those just passing by
because I'm blinded. Blinded by grass in the sky, the Earth
seems hurt, confused, upside down but I keep walking,
keep crawling, as though I have shoes made of cloud
and I'm allowed to fly wherever I want.

This isn't the world that raised me up, this is the world
that hurled abuse and painful memories, just to keep me down.
It's what I've allowed and to that I say I'm walking on
because my feet sings a song, the pitter-patter beat
like sleep under a tin roof echoing the serene sounds of raindrops.
The pain stops, the tears I've heard are not falling down my face,
it is the rain, leaking between cracks of a self-made ceiling
and as healing begins, this is my start, by tearing down that roof.

My shoes are made of cloud and I am walking across the sky,
hear me sigh as I say 'this is where I should have started from'
Catacombs are built for the dead, you are breathing, you are alive,
hearts survive, and so will you, so just do me a favour...
tear that ******* roof down and fly.