What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Grow
Another night alone on a dark road somewhere far away from my home.
The summer's on my mind, so far behind.
Face in a sink reflects these caffienated insides.
It's life scenarios you think of while you're alone, and on my own.
Like if my parents paid for everything
I own
I could be somewhere in a classroom taking notes of things that
I already know (or think
I do...)
What doesn't kill you makes you grow.
This nine to five turns into twenty four hours.
It seems that sweet escape from this cold, dark prison is a dream.
My priorities forgotten.
Stuck in a cycle on your knees.
I deliver, in spite to my friends and my enemies.
Some days,
I stay and lie awake in bed just to breathe my quickened heartbeat.
I hear noises overhead.
This face isn't strong enough to sleep.
I have a dream that
I can sleep on my own.
These days, my pale reflection can't pretend that this is all
I have to offer.
I hear noises overhead but this throat isn't strong enough to scream.
So it seems, 'cause now i scream on my own.
This cup of coffee burning my insides, and sip after sip
I grow and come to realize that this is moving on.