The smiles on their faces make me envious
They all eat dinner at the table together
No bickering or blood baths as they try to converse
Civil and trend quill evenings in the place they call, a home.
Home is where the heart is, but for I this is sadly mistaken
Home is where the pain is,
Nothing is stable here
Evenings consist of screaming ad quails
There is never silence in this prison
The bars to the cellar are rusty and covered in this dark tinted called pain
Who are they?
I know no people by these names.
Becker is all I've ever known
You cannot forgive certain kings ever
Like the hurt someone leaves upon you.
It's like a foot print on your heart
Eventually your walked all over, with nothing left inside.
The hurt feels like you've been cut with knifes inside.
You inhale a deep breath and feel the slicing
As you exhale, you feel your insides bleed
No one knows
No one can see
Only I know
Because only I can feel it.
Manic almost, is the way they make me feel
The nuclear family is dead
It is now completely unreal.
And people thought love was a fairy take
Something only reached in ones dreams
But it's family that is the fairy tale
At least a fairy tale to me