𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗.
Don’t get me wrong, I love sunshine.
Rainbows, smiles and sweets are fine.
But after months of sickly sweet,
I start to fidget in my seat.
I saw a little boy sitting on top of a green hill.
He looked up at the clear sky and he breathed in.
He let the sun embrace him, let it flow across his face.
Didn’t know the pressure of living in sin.
Everything’s blurry and slipping away.
You tried your best with what you had with the day.
Boy just calm down. You’re not quite there yet.
Even on my darkest days, you have a way of making me feel worse.
A battle I’m destined to never win.
I have tried everything in the book.
There’s nothing quite as bad as feeling helpless.
Empty bed.
Pounding head.
Shrinking room.
Open tomb.
Acid words.
Flightless birds.
Searing burn.
Revelations don’t come while doing day to day.
They come while wiping dirt out of your eyes.
You’ve been kicked to the ground many times before.
They never saw it accumulating into something more.
