Caged

Sooner or later you realize that no one can save you there are nothing but empty promises from broken homes and broken people. So you walk around with music turned up so loud that you can’t hear yourself think. Thinking is detrimental it allows remorse and anxiety and the ceaseless plethora of maybes to poison your mind with the possibility of escape. It seems to me that the ones who tell you to run are the ones who have never been trapped who have never realized that in some walks of life home can be another four letter word for hell where threats of violence are sharp exhales from decaying lungs. In this place the air is polluted