I sit in my bedroom every day
listening to the music on my radio play
I kick my feet and sing along
to some silly soft rock song
i sometimes think about the past
and how relationships never last
was it my fault it fell apart
that i was ready for a new start
or sometimes I'll work on my book
i keep it hidden where people never look
if they read it they might see
I'm not the person i pretend to be
other days i stare at the phone
the number above it turns my heart to stone
my fingers itch to dial each digit
but carefully i hold my hands rigid
i throw my body across the bed
and tug the blankets over my head
i don't want anyone to see me cry
to know that sometimes i wish i could die
i curl myself into a tight ball
soaking the sheet where the tears fall
i feel my cheek where the scar is
the one he gave me when i was his
those sad gray days are the worst
when I'm positive that my life has been cursed
luckily other days come
and i find myself enjoying some
so i stay in my room with the radio playing
analyzing what each song is really saying
i dance along and wiggle my hips
drinking a new life in tiny sips
