Every breath I'm breathing
as I exhale, it's leaving
behind a poison filled air
in my lungs.
It's those feelings of laughter,
and the silence that follows after
that leaves me broken and hung.
And we never asked
to be walking where were walking.
And we never wanted
to be walking alone.
I'm not quite sure where
this is all going.
But I wish I could say
I was home.
These walls and these windows
no matter how close here
feel more like prison than
anything else.
Oh, I wish I was leaving
behind such a season.
God, why does it all
feel like hell?
I once saw a boy I knew
hugging a blind man
who was bitter ontop,
with a soft core.
Love like that in it's purest
always showing then leaving
leaves me living for just it,
wanting more.
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