I'm so sick of painting pictures,

Mark my colours on the walls,

I want my voice to be heard,

Everyone needs to hear my calls.

I'm so tired of acting good,

Always the quiet, polite one,

When I long to wreak havoc,

And have a little bit of fun.

I'm so bored of lying all the time,

Of telling them I'm fine,

When I'm broken and I'm drowning,

Lost in a head that's no longer mine.

I'm frustrated that I can't,

Just express myself with freedom,

Of hiding my soul and heart,

It's beat a pounding, angry war drum.

I'm scarred and I'm corrupted,

Right down along my core,

I do deserve my freedom,

Of that I am very sure.