“You’re not sick, so you can’t heal
But I wonder do you feel
The need to cry: ‘I’m out of here'”
Looking back and thinking about things that once were, and how they have morphed and twisted but somehow contained within the same bounds . Under the same name but wearing a different face, taking up the same space but being a different shape – I cant put my finger on when the metamorphasis occurred, only that something isnt quite right. Words hang where they aught not to be, and those that should be chanted beneath the foundations are long gone. Alway waiting for hte sky to fall but never willing to flick the switch to turn the sky off and start a new day.