My mind is a prison.
This is my hell.
Where all the roads lead to home
and all the devils speak
in the tongues of my friends that I used to know.
The place where my heart feels the heaviest.
I discern this and I don't want to be saved.
This torment is what I deserve.
Lost somewhere between the past and the present.
I am meant to be a shattered soul.
The closer I get, the further it feels.
What am I to do?
The dream-catcher above my bed
hasn't helped me sleep in months.
That dream-catcher was worthless
and ill never take that medication.
You always said that I was weak
and I never proved that I was strong.
There's a noose hanging from the ceiling
and its the only place I've ever belonged.

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