Your Sanity

We'll all come back to those same walls one day.

~We're all mad. ~

They say they will help you find your sanity. 

But you know you're already free.

You strive so hard to be perfect, 

But they just stick you with labels: "mad."

Soon you are confined within their walls.

Through your fragile ears, they blast their static.

You try to switch it off, but they pump more static

Because they don't understand your sanity.

The world is closing in and so are these white walls.

You're suffocating, but they say you need to to be free.

It makes you want to rebel. You're so mad,

and you still strive so hard to be perfect.

They'll feed you lies, but your air is already a perfect 

treat. You take it down and just taste the static.

You start falling deeper, growing tired and more mad.

Struggling, you slowly start to give up your own sanity.

Now you're breaking, losing the free

will you once had outside these white walls.

They give you a white coat to match their walls.

They yell things about you not being normal or perfect.

You're bound by their chains to never be free.

You tried to hold firm and always stay static.

But they're playing with fire and your own sanity

so much that it makes you wonder if you really are mad.

Now you're raging and hiding rituals, Mad

at yourself for getting so bad and falling into these walls.

How did you lose your own sanity

so quickly? How was your perfect 

so imperfect? You think as they feed you more static.

You let them take control cause you'll never be free.

Remember when they finally let you free?

That day, all your demons agreed: you are mad.

You were a good little girl and mimicked their static.

They let you out, but you etched your name on their walls

so they'll never forget you. You can't be perfect.

You know you'll be back here next time you lose your sanity.

Now you're free,

but you know you'll be back in these walls.

You know you'll be mad

once again striving to find "perfect."

They'll try to cure you, more static,

but you'll never be cured

This is your sanity.

Tables

You have the same thing on your minds, but you'll both never know.

~ Pick up the phone. ~

I watch the cars leave the driveways.

They speed away towards lives you'll never know.

You hear the rain on your window,

Drops so delicate, like the edges of my dress now frayed.

You go downstairs to a stale cup of coffee.

I stare at my bowl, like it holds some kind of warning.

My eyes on inked words, it's just another morning.

You turn your head to my chair, but I'm not there.

You have the taste of liquor in your mouth.

I have the taste of words I said.

We sit at our tables thinking about things we regret.

Only one day, but feels like forever now.

A ring is taunting you from the other room.

A tan line is taunting me on my left ring finger.

The ghosts of our words unsaid still linger,

Thick like humidity from a storm in the afternoon.

We're at different tables in scattered places,

But we sit together on opposite sides.

We sit here and contemplate changing our minds.

It can't be over. We've left far too many traces. 

I reach for the phone.

You put it down.

The rain pours outside.

Is it all over now?

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