Lonesome Dome

This is no longer silence. Now its become a call. Its becoming a virus, telling me to end it all. I thought I'd be alright, that I could prevail in the end. But now its become a ride, nearing its tragic end. Its like I dont have a life, but Im being forced to live. Answers are being shown, finally revealing the truth. Everyday I come home, with nothing to come to. Is it so wrong, to hold the pieces of me? Will every little fault, spell the end of me? I have all I need, but they dont care that its hell. Sounds like to me, this has become some kind of jail. After all is said and done, Im asking myself "how?" How I'd be someone, to hide pain behind a smile. And it still seems, theres more trouble within. Even with all I need, theres nothing to help me live. Its like Im a slave, but I only want a little bit more. But who is to say, thats not to much to ask for. Such simple little things, now are my wildest dreams. Migrains in the back of my eyes, keep me awake at night. I start to feel hate, for people who are not wrong. I just want to escape, from this relm of which I dont belong.