How dark is your ceiling?

A/N: I was trying to write a birthday poem, but I didn't really feel in the mood to be cheery and all that happy, so I wrote this about an arguement that happened between a few of my friends and it basically describes how I felt aand how surprised I was at the reactions of my friends while in a fight... Comments and critiques accepted =]

While we’re spinning from the ceiling,
Not sure if our heart is supposed to be beating,
We’re supposed to hang on, I can’t seem to see
Why we are, Why we are, Why we are
So questionable.

Like most existence, we have our ways, our lies.
Taking time to unravel. Finding out the worst way to Hide.
And we’re creeping to the clock now. Waiting from time to run out,
We’re creeping to the clock now. Only a minute, she’s going to back out
-right now-

And you’ll see her in the shadows, oh, no doubt
She’ll be the one sending devilish glare, Metal sword still stuck in her mouth
She doesn’t speak.
Her tongue, it weighs a million tons,
from the words she begs to leak.

Surrounding us in a circle of fire,
She has every intention of leaving us there.
Watching and waiting,
Start worrying,
Because she’ll sit and just stare.

As puddles begin to form on the floor of this sickening cold and hot phase.
I’ll look to you and you’ll look to me.
Nothing else left, but to stand and see
What ever will be left of us and the room we were left in.
The cages we were locked in
The photos we were caught in
The years we were thrown in

Do I want to go home tomorrow?
Or do I want to stay here and die.
Anyways, what choice do I have,
I don’t have a say, cause fate and tears and pain and fears
Will drag us down to the darkest part of
The ceiling…