its funny how you can go so far
with no need for boat or car
just a step out and your free
you can be whatever you wanna be
these days home feels like a cell
all you can hear is your thoughts, there not well
wish there was a place to just run away
at home you do whatever they say
everywhere feels like a jail
nothing left, just bound to fail
your freedom out of bound
all you hear is the same old sound

then you realize you cant leave
no tricks up your sleeves
the true jail is but your mind
and no exit to find
so your plan shall never do
no use hitting yourself black and blue
escaping is never easy
it leaves you queasy

you can't run away from yourself
so put you attempts back on the shelf

watch the water crash,
the wave slowly crawling up to the tips of your toes,
begging for it just stop,
slow down,

wanting to turn around,
run away from the drips of crystal
but you're froze.

Muscles fight your thoughts,
a civil war within your shaking body,
grasped by the deep tremors.

The pain is just temporary,
but there's nothing more scary.

Water rises higher and higher,
your desperate thoughts turn to
screams.

why even try,
nothing can stop the persistent tide.

you just have to watch,
as it consumes you whole,
poisoning you from the bottom
slowing rising all the way to the shadows in your head.

You did all you could,
besides run.

which you've refused to do.

as love enters my body, it is like there is a gaping hole in my back.
the love seems to slip out.
it leaves.
Empty.

-I keep losing things

I would tell you how empty it was,
how five people were scattered around the hole in the ground,
but only two really cared,
but I can't.

I would tell you how long it took me to get there,
how tears stung my darkened eyes
as my black heels sunk into the softened dirt.
And I would tell you about the sadness I saw in everyone's eyes that day,
but I can't.

I would tell you how I missed him,
how he was so kind,
how he was always there for me,
how he didn't deserve what came to him,
but I cant.

I would tell you how much it rained,
or what day it was,
or how small the gravestone had been,
but I can't.

Because he was not kind,
he was never there,
there was no sadness,
and I don't know if he deserved it.
Maybe he did,
maybe all the pain he caused finally caught up to him.

Because I didn't count how many people were there,
I didn't wear black heels,
and I don't know what day it was.
I didn't go.
I didn't see the headstone,
or how they cried.
How they shed tears for their tormentor because now,
they had missed him.

I would tell you I didn't want to go,
but I can't.
I would tell you that I had a choice,
but I didn't.

I just stayed home,
staring at the ceiling
while they held an empty funeral.

"Many people have come and left, and it has been always good because they emptied some space for better people. It is a strange experience, that those who have left me have always left places for a better quality of people."