Skies are gray
But expected to be blue
The life I live
Something I can't choose

It's quiet out
Except for the sound of a car motor
I fall back
And keep falling until it's over

There's a type of person I know
A type that has been hurt
And I know I should pray for them
But they have such little worth

Positive thoughts are hard to come by
And easy to ignore
Your hand in my hand
I'm not dying anymore

I don't recognize myself
Not underneath all this dirt
Soot and ash covering me head to toe
Is this all I'm worth?

Voices and conversations.
The quiet places inside I've kept
Elevated like scars on my knees
And bad thoughts in my head