Fear tells me that I should run
And I obey; yes, I obey
It tells me what should not be done
And what I say; what can I say?

Every word’s a loaded gun
So go away; just go away
Fear tells me that I should run
And I obey; yes, I obey.


My life’s reduced to fractions
The circle hanging on the wall
Shows my portion getting ever smaller
When I look at it at all

My escape’s inching towards completion
My stumble’s near become a fall
I find that I’m defined by wasted time
And all I can do is stall.

The Hole

You know you have a hole to fill;
You carry it around.
So as you see us standing still,
The questions run aground.

Why leave behind a shovel
Just to cover with a tarp?
Because some things are never full,
And shovels can be sharp.


I can’t battle the presumption
Carried in my words
That I’m not a channel for destruction
That I’m not better left unheard

I can’t drown out little whispers
Wearing my own voice
When I always chose my battle’s victors
And it was never the right choice.

Dead Ends

I want to go new places
But I’m afraid of how to get there
I want to meet new people
But they’re something to beware
I want to make connections
But strings are better cut
I want to talk to you again
But if I do, then what?