Crawling

Perhaps there wasn't enough warmth in my life, in your life. Perhaps we were told to "man-up" and stop being a pussy all too soon. At an age that was for innocence and  being a child careless to the adult problems that surrounded us. Perhaps we were told we were idiots and stupid through out life. Perhaps no one believed in us because we were constant fuck ups. Perhaps these same people still think we are weak pieces of shit that will continue to fuck our lives up further more. Perhaps those closest to us pushed us to hard too fast when we were young and emotional, volatile. Perhaps we tried to find love and attached ourselves too fast in our early life of love and exploration  just to get used and cheated. Perhaps we tried to find comfort in rebellion because of hardships at home. Perhaps we took too many drugs, or watched as others died from them. I chose to watch the others fall while you perhaps participated. Perhaps we saw too much in comparison to the rest of the norm. It makes sense i guess, i would be the voyeur with the camera in the fast lane of sex, drugs and rock and roll while you would be the sex, drugs and rock and roller.  I watched as grown men as they played in their abundance of all things "sinful". Watched them fall like flies to their guilt, their struggle, their temporary pleasure and their lifetime of pain. Self inflicted wounds built upon those that were there from their childhood and past. Layer after layer, until they cannot find themselves. They don't know who they are. They can't find their way back, but want to. A glimmer of conscience that still becons them back. Nudging them to crawl on their knees to a life of peace and simplicity. That glimmer of the innocent child that found beauty in the most simple of things. That same child that resides still till this day, drunked with fear, sitting in a dark corner, afraid to move... Perhaps we were just smothered with the shit of life that our parents bestowed upon us. Perhaps we drank too much from devils cup, can't identify with reality anymore, can't find the reality that we want in our hearts when  we've become raging addicts of our vice. Perhaps we don't know how to love anymore. Perhaps we are just to scared to, too wounded, too inflicted, too damaged. Perhaps .... perhaps we all have a choice. Perhaps we are the one's that select our path, perhaps we are the ones that finally had enough of self loathing and endless pity parties and become solid rocks of control and passion for all things "right". Perhaps we are the recovering alcoholics that find a second chance at life. Perhaps...



Crawling in my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real

There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I fear is never ending
Controlling

I can't seem
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence I’m convinced that there’s just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure

Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem...

To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence I’m convinced that there’s just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure

There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I fear is never ending
Controlling

-Lincoln Park