Time is flexible
In it's own way...

My natal home:
Thought privileged...

Why is it, dear,
I'm always teased...

The page is blank;
Oblivious to the stressful pain...

What is the point-
Reminscing on the good times...

The stage opens, black all around.
The artist is propped at his place on the ground...

This pain in my chest
Engulfs my soul...

What's the use in fighting
Against an impossible win...

Uncontrolled...
It's influence like wildire...

I blare music as I sit on my bed.
Thoughts of sadness start flooding my head...

I have you on my mind every moment of the day.
From the beginning of a smile until it fades away...

If only we could retreat into a world of our...
We wouldn't cry, be sad, and we'd never feel...