Fuck this place and the way it’s been since I came around
Fuck the way I used to think of it back when I thought I was far away
I don’t know me
Fuck my tendency to keep things inside and let them out at just the wrong time
Fuck pretending I hate everyone, till I’m afraid that they won’t stay
It’s hard for me to say what I mean, when my voice is tied to a tree in the woods
I’m spinning and I can’t see anything, and I just want you to call me
I don’t want to be a tiny poem that gives you self confidence
I don’t want to be opened and closed then stored away until you’re hurt more