By Arcassin Burnham
Never found a reason to go back,
The past was a horrible place to be,
Breathing in this cruel disgusting air,
And suffocating when there's no space,
But there's no other high like it,
If it ever has its own genre,
Collective to the sadness,
And suffered more of the drama,
Wishing some of the ex's you had could come back,
But they were bad influence bound,
Living in a bottle,
Made in a factory,
Kinda what's its like,
Working nine to five,
Keeping food on the table but I still remain to be stuck in the same place,
And with that being said , I'm trapped in this hell called a life.
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