You call this growing up? My eyes only see a fortress made debris. Traumatic and wasted nights.
I'm becoming part of this sharp environment, like a fossil. When will I smell the fragrances of somewhere where I can be safe from myself?
I bleed away from the lighting. Hysterical and shattered, knowing I've become a stranger. They call it growing up... One step for every sacrifice and loss. If this is growing up...
Here ends my dance with life, the flow of time that is now a clot is about to perish.
You call this growing up? My eyes only see a fortress made debris. I bleed away from the lighting. Hysterical, shattered. I've become a stranger.