Distress lies across this chair
In the form of limbs and veins
You think you might possibly care
But not enough to steal away my pains
That float in the watery eyes that are mine
But yes I am willing to say I am doing just fine
Has the world wearied of such expressions
That only open the door on more regressions
That in better days were left out on the cold porch
But have since set fire to the house with a single torch
They left me inside the building to burn until I am only ash
Each cruel word has the bite of a leather whip's infuriated lash
Here I lay letting go of it all my wrist wrapped in pink
Maybe someday they will remember or even stop to think
What happened to the boy whose eyes were always closed tight
Even when the world tried desperately to share some form of light
Their answer will have fallen to the bottom of a dusty pile of memory
For at the end of it all only I could outlive what they chose to think of me
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