Some days, I carry my heart in my hands instead of my chest
Sore from being squeezed behind a cage for so long
Finally free, it cries crimson tears; hating me although it knows I'm doing it for the best
"My child," I say, "I'd rather you be locked away than you to break and be lost."

Some days, I would rather live in silence than survive through quick fixes
Some words aren't meant to come, and I'm told it won't last
People come and go, and I want someone to care, but each time I end up with stitches
So in the end, my own thoughts are what I have

Some days, I collect my tears, sweat, and blood
To convince myself that there is something more in society
Spend my days looking at the storm clouds. The only tears I give up
Unnoticed, in the midst of the loud, I leave quietly