I've played with the thought of running away from what haunts me most Or maybe just ending the story short Either would be better than this place that I'm at now I've played this thought over pa**ing it back and forth between my fingers Enough to make them raw through the skin Cutting deep into my bones and hitting the one thing that I've held through these long seasons….my hope While everything's come and gone, that was the one thing that kept me from giving up on going on Like the times when friends and family tell you “You're going to do great things” But this actually held some sense of meaning in its phrase Unlike the empty nonsense that's said to comfort you with the fact that your youth has expired Some would say it's wrong and that I'm the liar, but you've got a feeling crawling deep under your skin that tells you right Tells you that this plan that's been laid out for you isn't etched in stone Isn't written to be declared to the generations below It's a feeling that's nestled itself deep in my awkwardly long bones Leaching off the hope that let me endure this tragedy that we like to call a home It wasn't always a tragedy, and there weren't always holes in the walls where holes should never be There was a time when pictures hung from every free inch of the walls Sporting landscapes and memories that stretch down the entire hall Showing the life that used to roam freely and the love that came endlessly But fear is the one thing that led to it's destruction This disillusion of fear led us to dismantle what we had worked so hard to build What we had given so much to find And within the blink of an eye, or whatever you prefer to tell time...it was gone This home that had birthed a tragedy, had finally given way to its own And yet I still search for way of how to recreate that home No matter how many pictures I tilt or how many days I cross off in the month of September I can't recreate what we had No matter how many walls you paint or pictures you hang It'll never be the same as it once was It's like I found myself stuck living in the past holding onto anything that brings some sort of comfort, or at least won't bring any pain And you've got that pain wrenched deep under your skin Crawling into any crack and crevice, finding any way to get in And that void that you've got that you feel in your limbs It can't be cured with any pill or needle The things that you use to numb the gnawing bite until it fades into a dull tick No...only something greater than yourself can fill that void that you've been trying to satisfy for years That void is the same pain that's made itself home in my awkwardly long bones I wish I had the guts to confront what haunts me the most I wish I had the ability to take a chance without the fear of falling But I think I've finally discovered what keeps me up at night when I'm all alone That's the pain that's made it's home in these God forsaken bones