The Fire

I'm living there
a month ahead
and I can't come back

I'm hanging here
barely out of fear
can't you hear?

my screams
scratch the walls
my sins
they're all so small

but still
it keeps me ill
like a dot
like a knot

something's keeping
me from breathing
keeping me around
and holding my body
against the ground

stoppping me
from being
and seeing
and reaching
my highest potential
stopping me
from being in
the real world
stopping me
from living
the life I wish
to live


and it's all
oh so steep
days go by
though I can't sleep

and even with a threat
of a glimpse
you could tell
there's nothing to hide
I've been going through hell


every now and then
I just have to ask
out of an endlessly naivety:
isn't there anything
truthful and
good - for once?

isn't there
anything or anyone at all
going to save me?