These days go by like a blur,

a long

agonizing blur.

They say these days will never die,

that you are young and free.

But then why do I feel so 

Trapped

In my own skin

every time I walk down these halls?

It is only when I return

when I crawl inside my own mind

do I feel free.

I am as free as a bird

But

does a bird not have to return to the ground?

But when I come down

into a world of sin

and hate

My heart longs again

for that sweet release 

of sky.

So I'm sorry I'm quiet,

I'm sorry I read,

forgive me for not making lasting impressions

and not having the words to say

when you needed them

and I couldn't deliver

But just like that bird in the sky

I must continue to fly

or else be eaten alive by the world,

this darkness you call Home.