Normal is bad. Balance is Shit.
I want to be angry and fierce, shirtless and sweaty.
Screaming at the top of my lungs,
Clawing at my own skin for the rest of my life.
I want to roll on the dirty carpet.
The air raid sirens explode over my head,
Ripping the air, rent to shreds.
I want to be angry, sad and alone:
Hating the world, hating my parents, hating myself.
I don't want to call anyone on the phone and pretend to be happy,
Having to pretend to be everything I'm not.
I cannot handle it anymore,
I wish to throw myself in this machine,
To get all tangled up in my own insides.
I'd stay there, being broken, panting, wild, and evil.
It's all I dream of doing, it's all I have ever wanted to do.
It's such a simple thing, but they will not let me do it.
They hold my arms, laughing evilly at my realizations.
They ask why I do the things I do, why I'm such an evil kid.
They ask my why I'm so sad.
I'm not the one with any answers.
I just strain against the wall of their psychosis.
I might bust soon if I cannot escape,
If I cannot make it out to the other side
So I can scream, howl, cry and follow my heart.
They have their fist clutched around the core of my heart and soul.
Squeezing, constricting, and all the while telling me
That there is something wrong with me, that I'm odd.
They tell me how to live my life how they want, so I can get better.
I can't see anything through the black puffy dragons that are stuffed in my head,
barely contained in my bulging eyes, seeping through my eyelids.
I have to get away from this, launch myself into safety.
Why don't they just go away, Leave me alone.
I guess they think that it is their job, but it's not that simple anymore.