Freebird....

It all started in the back of the room. These clouds weren't meant to handle this kind of sun, but they forged their way through anyway. I had real high hopes for my low self esteem as I pounded my soul into the ground. I didn't realize at the time what would become of all this, I just knew that "becoming" was all that mattered. We trampled around the sunset strip for weeks, devouring anything in front of us like two five year olds in front of a pile of chocolate chip cookies. I couldn't save myself if I tried, so I just went with it the only way I knew how, no damage control in site for miles. There seemed to be a litter of dead butterflies around me every time I woke up, and my head was stuck in the sand of the mattress. I was surrounded by beauty, life, and success, and all I could do was wrap myself even tighter, into my cocoon of madness. I felt nothing for anyone or anything, not even myself. At first I was able to act out the love and kindness like I was starring in a Broadway show, but in time, it slowly washed away like a stone in a stream... nothing left but a pebble of a man, sitting in the dark, buried under water, trapped between the two boulders of hate and shame. Now the light shines bright in my life, but is hidden behind sunglasses of controlled fear. I take them off when I feel safe enough, but will look past your face like I'm waiting for someone more important to walk into the room. Now the bus is full of people, starstruck from the life I complain about, and I feel like I am throwing a big party in my parents house that's gotten out of control, but I can't tell anyone to leave. I want to leave, but I have nowhere to go, so I put the sunglasses back on and let everyone know they can politely go fuck themselves while I dive back into the sand to watch the butterflies die...