The conflict never ends
There is never any chance to mend
Every turn is just as dark
Another shade of grey,
They all look the same.
Cannot fit in a box
Cannot fit in a space this small
Cannot fit in your glass walls
Your hypocrisy thickly veiled behind pretty words
You never see my blade.
"Coming home" is never what it means
Death and decay is all that I've seen
In there where "home" is nothing
But 5 strangers in a room
My knife looks big to you
But it can never cut me as deep as you.
