Is it the questions, or is it the answers?
Can you hear the feeling that makes my knees hurt?
I don't understand the things that I do
Why am I so obsessed
The things don't let my mind rest
Haunted by my own inner self
Creeping and crawling down the stairs
Looking for something that controls my own actions
Can you save me, can you help?
Is it the hard thing to tell
Can you say it, or can you spell?
Whisper it, maybe in my ear?
Can you scream it, to the sleeping sensations that ring at night
Bring out the paper and hand me the colors,
But there are no lines that can keep them safe from the others
I can't comprehend the mess that I've made
Some times I get so very afraid
To the highest point of the mountain top
Friendship only goes so far
Before it all falls off the side of what we hold so hard
Teach me a new trick
So that I can learn to outrun the signs
The symbols and markings painted on my left eye
In here I can't hear
They shout, but not a sound,
The tree falls but no one is there to hear
Pinch me I must be dreaming
But the sounds of the ghosts are the only ones beaming
In the corners
In the walls
Down the street
In the halls
Is it the answers, or is it the questions?
Am I set apart to learn all these lessons?
Can you hear the seconds or listen to the melodies of minutes?
Hand me your hand so that I can grab hold and fix this.
Are the sounds to loud
Or are they truly too quiet.