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.