Runaway

there's not much here under my outer shell
it's all broken up, crumbled then expelled
I'd like to think it's poetic how lost I feel
that some day someone will come and find me

but realities harsh and sharper then knives
my dream is unlikely to ever come alive
in this pitiful box I call my bed
i can't really even rest my head

i thought life was unfair when I had everything
now the worlds come back around to hit me
and it's telling me that I'd better pick myself up
or depression will find me and turn my broken mind into muck

I always though that i was as free as a bird
and never realized that even birds need a place to call home