What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Grow

Another night alone on a dark road somewhere far away from my home.

The summer's on my mind,

so far behind.

Face in a sink reflects these caffienated insides.

It's life scenarios you think of while you're alone,

and on my own.

Like if my parents paid for everything I own I could be somewhere in a classroom taking notes of things that I already know (or think I do...) What doesn't kill you makes you grow.

This nine to five turns into twenty four hours.

It seems that sweet escape from this cold,

dark prison is a dream.

My priorities forgotten.

Stuck in a cycle on your knees.

I deliver,

in spite to my friends and my enemies.

Some days,

I stay and lie awake in bed just to breathe my quickened heartbeat.

I hear noises overhead.

This face isn't strong enough to sleep.

I have a dream that I can sleep on my own.

These days,

my pale reflection can't pretend that this is all I have to offer.

I hear noises overhead but this throat isn't strong enough to scream.

So it seems,

'cause now i scream on my own.

This cup of coffee burning my insides,

and sip after sip I grow and come to realize that this is moving on.