I rubbed the gum wrapper so long my fingers turned green,
as pieces of tin foil fell like dust on this tattered pillow.
i sat obediently calm and quietly observant,
while you judged me for the amount of days i’ve lived
not considering the quality of those days.

I drove home screaming to melodies lost on me,
as the night air whipped my hair into tangles of hurt,
asking what plan He has for a soul like mine,
for no matter where i go, there simply isn’t a place for me.

It’s never a question of smiles gained or looks given,
but rather, the ways i can bend and form to ideas,
and how easily i can lie while waiting for the curtain to drop.