Stories in your head
they need to be known
covered in earth
so bad your not shown
you sit in the clouds
confused and alone
you wonder why people
deal with broken homes
but the pain inside
is too much to intake
the worry you ponder
makes stress living a race
and all that you need
is a one hour break
from your point of view
from your body and face
you need to let go
and experience new things
but old habits die hard
and your wants are your needs
your hands are you enemies
and your tongue is your death
if you don't cut them off
you'll never get rest
your feet deny you
and your lips rebel
if you don't staple them shut
you'll wind up in hell
your scars are your fears
and your eyes are the map
you'll never succeed
they all say you cant
you suck, your s**t
your confused, your alone
no on likes your stories
no one wants you home...
