Lights make dark silhouttes play games like toys i,

   never had growing up, being fed lies when all i wanted, a taste of the truth

even books get tired of being read'

when eveyone knows your story,

but not the pain of opening up

paretns build chuildren up like castles, just to tear them down,

left shattered on the ground,

we built ourselves back up to be a fortress of solitude,

because even matts get tired of being stepped on

                like

pens being used to write stories that are not their own, we are all trash surfacing on the same level;

trash to the sewer; listening to the raidios words to numb like a therapist,

i listened to these songs written on the wall

i try to understand what ive lost and what ive gained,

but i gain nothing from minds like prison, viewing my house like jail,

every church building i talk to says im going to hell,

 why, for the way my emotions can feel,

so they kill others mind yet, heaven and hell making bets on which way my mind will split,

waged wars, weigh heavily on my chest like..

like my little brother

when we were poor living on corners with stores,

he needed a place to rest i'd let him place his head on my chest,

i can recall how he'd take each breath so cold you could even see it,

i remember telling him about our family tree and how we werer the world, our bodies outreach to save every poor baby,

casting out generosity like that of those who live

poor but still help others in povertiy

the world lies to my body

every experience i know, white hairs grow on my head like light rays shine on dark days.