The only good things I have, I destroy
and in the end, try to play the pity ploy.
I weep in my own pain and misery
and seems I only feel at home in perilous glee.
Seems I'm only happy when I'm alone.
No one shuffling around my dark home.
I'm only happy when my bed is cold
and I'm only happy when my soul is sold.
Seems I can't be happy with the ones I love
and a hug is always turned into a shove.
A place where I can't look love in the eye.
A place where its never a happy cheerful sky.
A place where pain is something I know all too well.
A place in my own self made cold lonely hell
A place where I can be alone and know I'll be here.
A place where no one can ever come near.
A place where I don't have to worry about it all.
A place where I can just curl up in this stall.
A room far away from all the ones I need.
A place where love is something we consider greed.
A box where we keep our happiness locked away.
A place where I'm too afraid to do what I say.

10/20/2003

Posted on 10/20/2003
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Howard