• The world is so loud compared to my voice
    I walk around town with my lips moist
    A word is dying to come out but it needs some help
    It's definitely slower than Michael Phelps

    My skin feels like paper, my bones feel like glass
    It also hurts the way I'm always picked last
    I feel like a loser, a no one, a mistake
    And, for that, my bones will continue to break

    My mouth is sewn shut, nobody listens
    Just the haunting eyes that continue to glisten
    The eyes of a monster that keeps me silent
    And when I can't speak it makes me violent

    "What's wrong with you?" "Why don't you speak?"
    It is those words that make me weak
    I have no friends, I'm always alone
    I can't even say hello when I pick up the phone

    I wish it was all over, even if it meant dying
    It's not like anyone, in the long run, would end up crying
    There would be one less problem in this messed up world
    I only hope one day, the cure will unfurl