Don't ask me about faith or love or doing what's right because when I was 13 years old the trees told me
that no matter how stable your foundation is it will break someday.
To this day I tend to stay away from strong, tall trees and instead find shade under shaky, frail ones cowering on the side of the forest. I'm sorry for not loving you in a more prideful way. I don't have enough time to write out all of my regrets so instead I will love you with a quivering touch and an apologetic stomach.
My fear?
ASK ME ABOUT MY FEAR.
I KNOW OF ALL KINDS
THE TRIVIAL, THE NERVOUS AND THE INNOCENT
I KNOW OF THE SMALL FIRE BUILT INDIDE YOUR CHEST THAT IS STOKED NOT BY A GUST OF WIND BUT MY THE SOUND OF A FRIENDLY BOYS VOICE
ASK ME ABOUT MY FEAR AND I WILL GUIDE YOU TO AN OVERGROWN FIELD WHERE THE THIN GRASS IS A TAUNTING DEPICTION OF WHAT I WANT TO BE
LOOK AT THE INDENTS IN THE DIRT MADE FROM MY KNEES
LOOK AT THE LEAVES LYING ON THEIR BACKS AND I WILL SHOW YOU HOW TO REPENT LIKE THE WOOD THAT BEGS FOR MERCY IN A BURNING BUILDING
I WILL SHOW YOU ******* OFF WHATEVER STRENGTH YOU HAVE LEFT AND HOW TO BREATHE AS IF IT IS AN ACCIDENT
I WILL SHOW YOU HOW TO BE LOVED AS IF YOU ARE THE ONLY SURVIVOR OF A PLANE CRASH AND LEAVE YOU WONDERING HOW IT COULD HAVE TURNED OUT DIFFERENTLY. I WILL SHOW YOU HOW TO FIND SOMETHING YOU NEVER THOUGHT YOU LOST.
I will show you how your feet scream when they enter a hospital and how they sing when they walk out.
Here is my testament , here is what dropped out of the sky when I reached up with empty hands and bleeding courage
I threw my ears on a broken star with a strong arm and a weak heart just to listen to the commentary of whatever god everyone claims to exist
I will tell you about the day heaven seems to be soundproof
What could a 15 year old know about faith
What could I know about demons and angels and how they excite and disappoint you
How could I know about how a newborn baby disguised in a blanket clutching it's mothers arm, in what seems small forever
What could I know about 8 empty bottles of cheap wine and a child with too many bruises and a hole in his pocket that won't let him hold all that he wants to keep
This is not how you love someone, this is how you miss them
And how instead of listening to your head and heart you listen to his
This is how you run faster than the rivers to be held in his arms
This is a reminder that when they ask for nothing they become everything
This is how you start beginning,
And how to prepare to come to an end.

Today
The tears have managed to slip out
Bringing about the red eyes,
choked out cries
of what life is really like
Inside these four walls

At every corner
i cave
Knowing if i stand up
i will get slammed down
down to where i curl up
dead, still wishing for a better life
inside these four walls

I live in fear for tomorrow
Afraid i might finally have the courage
to press down deep enough
to expose the anger that runs through my veins
everyday
inside these four walls

Mother and father is what they call themselves
nuturing us with love and care
protecting us from the evil that is out there
but is there a difference from the evil out there
and the evil that is stained
on these four walls

Forced to play by their rules
We follow them blindly
even with the ocassional abuse
"you're not white" excuse
marks of bruises
that show our traditional ways of life
inside these four walls.

Crying is not allowed
no sugarcoating when we're down
we live only for your purpose
of control and possession
choices made under your disgretion
indide these four walls
it's all i've ever known
there's no place like home.