There was a certain comfort in the time I spent
Sitting against a wall outside in the cold
They don’t tell you what its like to freeze to death
But here’s what wishing you would is like

The trees sway with another chilling breeze
There’s a little stinging pain in my toes
Its been about 20 minutes out here
My feet are the only things cold
I'm thinking
Way too much about how the frost feels
My hands become red
a little icy itch not quite numbing my fingers

Another 20 minutes go by and I can feel the cold travel
I have no intention of leaving
I don’t want to
Maybe i’ll stay all night

An hour in my feet are cold on the outsides
My ankle is freezing
I adjust my earbud and look up to the sky
My breath can be seen in the air
I think about my mother finding my body
Bitten blue with winter

2 hours in and my feet are starting to ache
Its an interesting feeling
Almost like I’ve broken a bone but can’t quite feel it
I don’t want to be here anymore
Not outside, id love to stay in the icy air all night
But here, in front of my so called home
Filled with my so-called family
I’d like to be staying somewhere else
Somewhere where they aren’t
Somewhere where the people who care about me
Are all far far away
And if I die, they know in a few days
Not right away
If I’m sick they’ll send a gift card
And call so many times I’ll have to turn off the phone

So maybe I’ll just sit here
And let nature have its way with me
Because I'm not ready to go back in
And live in a “family”

The lakeside cabin was as old as history.
The lake itself was ancient.
The cabin was in our family for years.
None of us knows who built it,
all we know is we always have fun there.
Playing in the lake all day,
staying up late telling ghost stories around a campfire.
Many years ago I went back.
I couldn't find it.
Recently I went with my family and it was back.
Maybe it wasn't where I thought it was at first.
Maybe it was never there.
All I know is we had fun.
That's all that mattered,
We had fun.

looking up at the sky,
wishing to be a part of is
what we all dream of—
then come those
who stitch up their feathers to fly;
to prove that you can own that sky
with your efforts
rather than chillin'
if we really desired for the sky,
we had been one of those
but sadly, we can't make a difference
though it's not late

If only I wasn't such a freak then I could explore the world every day of the week.
being constantly stuck in this place I call home, I just sit and watch the other freaks roam.
all the normal people have someone to love, and I'm stuck here talking to the angels above.
maybe if I looked different I would get treated better, or pretty and famous then my fans would write me letters.
but normal is not absolutely in my inside, and I don't wanna act like something I don't define.
but it's okay to be different because different is better, whether it's pretty or not like an ugly sweater.
being a freak doesn't make you weak, being the same will always make you lame.
realize this cause this is who you are, and finding the truth isn't so far.