if i kick you will it hurt?

where am i?

how did i get here?

i think i came by choice..

so why cant i leave by choice?

why do you keep me here;

keep me in my prison.

why do i miss them so much?

why did i ever leave them?

and what about the ones that left me?

the people i left; the people that left me

they equal up to everyone

everyone that matters… mattered

it makes no sense

my life is dazy haze of clutter

step into the clutter; you will find

a thousand needles prick you like knives.

mostly it hurts.

i lied.

it always hurts.