The keys. The keys are on the kitchen table.
The car. The car is parked just outside.
My bag. I've packed it with clothes, not much else.
Money. Not a lot of it, but probably just enough.
My phone. In my pocket, turned off.

Is it really just these things i need, to run away from this place?

Leave my life behind fly out wide, deep in space.
Running away, leaving all the challenges I face.

Would it really be that easy just to leave this place?

In a metaphorical prison, surrounded by concrete walls. It's lucky that my mind's ever seen sun light at all. I mean physically the door's right there but mentally I continue to stall.

Why? Why do I stay, looking out the window through the bars? Dreaming of a life I'll never have from afar.

I never understood why the caged bird sings, i mean what does it have to sing about? Locked in a cage, alone with my thoughts, I begin to shout...

I AM NOT A CAGED BIRD! Please let me out?!

I could open the door, but I'm fighting in my mind,
part of me says that it's nice here, the other part knows this is just irrational fear.

So grab the I keys, open the door, I feel as though I'm ready to explore.

I wonder....will I ever miss the cage I lived in before?

It's kind of confusing, this skin I'm in.
Wanna break myself out, get free of this sin.

I'm living a lie, can't I just be my self.
I can't even wear clothes, without wishing I was someone else.

Listen, I want short hair, I want to be thin, I wanna be the pretty girl, I just need to be begin again.

Go back in time and erase the past, erase the version of myself i hate, at last.

I'll be free, away from the scorn. Finally I'll be me and feel as if I were just born.

Will I ever be happy, with the way I'm perceived?
Will I ever be happy with this look I've achieved?

You say that I'm perfect just the way I am, but make sure to sit up tall, keep your hair down, and wear a dress.

So you say I'm perfect, but only to your desire,
You say I'm perfect, but you sound just like a liar.

Am I lying to myself with this fantasy of mine,
maybe one day  I'll wake up, and finally be me this time.

I sit in the back seat, and listen to the slurs.
The hatred like venom poisons  all your words.

The names you call them, the jokes you tell.
The things you tell me, how they'll all go to hell.

I wonder how long you've spit lies.
How can you hate them, the tears fill my eyes.

You think you can teach me, that I'll hate them too.
But you'll never understand the impact of the words that you spew.

It's not your fault really, you've learned this since you were born.
Your parents, their parents, all passing down scorn.

Against innocent people, just like you and I.
Tell me, have you ever thought, that you've been living a lie?

Why do you hate them, tell me what do you fear?
Are you scared of who you've become, afraid of your mind.

I mean do you really think it's that hard to be kind??

Fill it up. My dreams, aspirations. I hope.
One day they'll be true, I give it to you.
This cup filled with my future.

Pour it out. My anxiety, my fear.
I bear it all here. For you my dear.
My cup is empty.

My heart is true this cup is for you.
My hopes and my fears they all disappear
When i am with you.

Flick. Lights off. You hate me, I've ruined your life. You wish id never been born, you wish i'd just have died.

Flick. Lights on. You love me, You want a second chance. You want to be my mother , we can do this again.

Flick. Lights off. You're in the dark once more. I hide behind the walls of my room, scream and lock door.

Flick. Lights on. I've stop trusting the lights, they deceive me. Even when the lights are on...ARE THEY EVER REALLY ON?!

I can't trust the lights. So I go mad in the dark. Living in a house in a room full of lies.

There's no escape from the darkness, especially when i close my eyes...

I want to cut my hair.
Chop it all off and make it into something beautiful.
I need to cut my hair.  They say things like
"Wear your hair down more." "You'd be so pretty if you let your long hair down."
I DO NOT LIKE LONG HAIR.
I have never liked long hair.
I seek liberation, from this metaphorical suffocation.

Please, just let me cut my hair.

I want to be the cool girl, who gets all the other girls. The skinny one. The pretty one. The handsome one. The stylish one. The gay one. The tattooed one. The one with short hair.

I want to have short hair.

I don't want to wear a dress, or at least I don't think I do.
I don't want to wear a suit, or then again maybe i do.
I'm not sure who i am anymore.
Stuck within this eternal identity crisis, living in fear of what everyone thinks.

Can't i just walk down the street smiling? The wind in my hair, the sun on my face? Feeling as if time is irrelevant?

Except nothing is irrelevant. Can't i take my girlfriend to Prom without feeling lost?

Can't we both be the prom queens?