Broken Pain

You tell me I am lonely, so I let it be
our religion is the only thing left for me.

You tell me I am bitter, you think I am free?

How can I be free in a house that hates speech?

I like him, I like her. I hear kids yell,
it is such a un-amusing sound.

I sit back, look at you, and snicker.

You tell me I will die alone, but I am not
alone, we are all alone, this house is a broken
pain, a broken home, how can I be alone when this is
the only thing I've ever know?