Oh there are times, Times that feel inescapable. Where my mind folds in over what you said, What do you take me for? Broken, that's fair. Destructive? That too. Anything goes, From what I know, As long as I'm not alone. But these walls that I've built, Blocks of grief, mortar of guilt, I can't scale them on my own. Inside my walls I'm safe, Or so I choose to believe. I long to sleep on dew-soaked grass, But cold stone is more suited to me. I've been here forever, And that's what scares me. That even if I knew I could, I'm too busy trying to learn, The language of suffering, To try and leave. I've memorized these prison walls, Their cracks and intricate histories. I could draw each stone with my eyes closed, But where the door might be is lost on me. Dew-covered grass, Instead of this floor. I long to sleep there, In the cold open air, Let the damp earth carry me. Instead I remain, Locked in a prison I made, Even if I find the door I've swallowed the key. What if I make it to the grass, And still sleep curled up small? What if I walk beyond the door, And still try to build a wall? The cold might follow me outside, And fear might tag along. Can I still call this place a prison, When I can choose to move on? Inside my walls I'm safe, That's what I used to believe. Now I sleep on dew-soaked grass, The cold stone isn't suited for me. I was there forever, And that's what scared me. Cause all that time I chose to stay, I never learned to speak, The language of suffering, So I took my leave.
