November 3 2009

I feel their eyes on my back
waiting to watch me fall down on my face
wanting, to laugh as I crawl like a coward back home.

I don't know where home is...
Is it where I feel most safe or feel like I belong?
There is no home for me,
If this is your definition.

A reject outcast loner trying to swim to the top of this never-ending ocean of people
Speaking lies, hiding truths behind their eyes.

This world is like clear ice, you can see through it,
but no matter how you try to warm yourself you stay cold while the world melts around you
and drips to the ground

Fake ass rain drops
Fake ass people

Everything is just another metaphor for something else,
so what makes something real if everything just explains everything else?
Wheres the beginning? The source?
Why is there never an end and only always a middle?

Where is the hand to guide us all?
All we are is lost children.