By Natasha Jordan
There's nobody here I'm all alone.
The walls they scream of things once said,
They constantly echo in my head.
The door in front it never closes as people never stay,
The hatred and guilt always drives them away
So welcome to my broken home
I don't have anything to offer you,
No love, no face
I'm out of place and there's not much
I can do.
I sit in here and do nothing at all,
But stare at these empty walls.
It portrays the life of hurt and hate,
My destiny, my anguish, my solitaire fate.
It's like a projection screen playing a never ending show,
It's like it's in slow motion, so painfully slow.
So run now from my broken home, keep the door open as you leave,
Because being trapped in here
I still need air to breathe.
Tell now about my broken home of all things heard and said,
Because even as a woman that house still lives in my head.
That little girl trapped inside, well that little girl is me,
Even though I'm older now the horrible thoughts won't me be.
