Walking along the cool stream,
Taking awhile for me to cure.
The trail of blood that cleanses my previous wounds.
Can not cure my grieving.
I feel as though im put on a stage.
The world is glaring at me to do soemthing wrong,
to mess up one more time.
Then the other side of me becomes exposed.
Im in the corner of the stage...scared to be noticed.
The plan is working out nicely.
I blend in to my desk.
While Im looking out the window,
Praying that one day,
I will be free.