The pitter pat of the raindrops on the glass my world separated from outside. The rain very rhythmical in its own unique way, the last step of a long cycle, journey across the world.
A few months till you'll be free, to do what you want to do and be who you want to be till you'll really be happy, you'll have broke the mould overcome the expectation.
Don't want to feel this way any more, like my heart has smashed all over the floor it's shards sharp at the edge. We can talk and be happy but then we'll say one thing
You say that you're too much work or not pretty enough for me, you know that you have issues and that things that most others don't, and sometimes you'll tell me things
Those few weeks seem so long ago now i'm back here again, in the lonely husk of the walls within which i dwell, just wishing i was home again and not in this make shift cell.