Confined to the walls of my room
Bandana around my neck
I try to remember the good things in life
I want to stay out of my own head
Nothing in life is free
Not even the air we breathe
It's tainted with diseases
But we breathe anyway
We endure the screams of alcoholic fathers
We cry ourselves to sleep at night
We convince ourselves that we're alright
And never seek help from others
We are the broken ones
We endure our pain and suffering
We remember the things worth remembering
We are the depressed ones
We see knives as toys
We don't know the difference between light and dark
We are hurt, and some of us can't be saved
So my Dad was screaming at me again this morning, and he took away all of my means of communication. Luckily, he forgot my computer, so I can still write (and talk to my Mom, who will save me ASAP).