–

Caught
In a rut, in a strut
In always having rotten luck
In parading around, no end to be found
To always letting myself get cut
And burned
By the same old things

Caught
In a lie, by and by–
In the absence of cut and dry
It’s easier to smile and avoid their eyes
Than to let loose the truth I have no name for,
No cage for

Caught
In a lack if words
Between maybe wanting to be heard
And a need to never be seen again,
A wish to hide away from the world

Caught
With a snap, in a trap,
Falling into the ancient mass of broken things with useless wings

Caught
But not–

I am lost.

And it is, really, all my fault.