the good they see took years to build
when the fire has found a home in me
and acceptance puts a blanket over my eyes
placing eggshells around me
I can still hear their whispers [in my head]
what really is the point of living life for the perfect image?
do I live to make other people happy?
I'm still free in every way
but I still feel like running..
crying, breaking, falling, drowning
waiting for my sea level to go down
waiting for my decision
all or nothing. jump