Building This House
Seven years, I've been lost.
I don't play my music anymore.
I don't tell my stories anymore.
I don't sail the oceans anymore.
I rarely ever dream anymore.
I barely even write anymore.
I never say what it means to me,
Not even to myself.
The words inside my head
Are never from my heart,
Never from my hands,
Never who I am.
Nothing is real.
I can't love
And, I can't let go,
And, I can't feel this moment anymore.
Time stands still
And, every day is the same,
And, every night goes on forever.
Nothing ever changes.
This is not my home.
This is not my life.
This is not me.
Seven years, I've been lost.
I don't play my music anymore.
I don't tell my stories anymore.
I don't sail the oceans anymore.
I rarely ever dream anymore.
I barely even write anymore.
I never say what it means to me,
Not even to myself.
The words inside my head
Are never from my heart,
Never from my hands,
Never who I am.
Nothing is real.
I can't love
And, I can't let go,
And, I can't feel this moment anymore.
Time stands still
And, every day is the same,
And, every night goes on forever.
Nothing ever changes.
This is not my home.
This is not my life.
This is not me.
White Words
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