| Current mood: |  sad |
These corridors are my emptiness, long and ever winding
Running through them, endlessly, searching but never finding
I’m hiding somewhere you’ll never see, under skirts and lies
The wind whistling through the halls, those are your goodbyes
The sound of the doors slamming; the sound of my screams
The pictures in those silver frames, they are my dreams
The rain pounding against the windows, those are my eyes
The curtains are closed, the blinds are shut, whenever a window cries
The carpet is my skin, stained red, black and blue
The walls towering, surrounding, closing in, the walls; they are you
The wallpaper is ripping off, I now see underneath
The broken bottles on the floor, my broken belief
The bed, so cold and empty now, the bed it is my heart
Trust, the sheets upon the bed, shredded, torn apart
The lights, they are my happiness, they don’t work anymore
Your love is cruel, your love is cold, your love is the closed door
My dependence on you, that is the broken chair
The table, the knives the forks, the plates, the life we used to share
The rubbish spilling from the bin, the rubbish, that is me
All over, toys and relics, from a broken family
The mirror is my self worth, my reflection isn’t there
Lipstick hearts drawn on it; you pretending that you care
Home is where the hurt is, this house was built of pain
I leave, but I find myself coming home, over and over again.
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