Go. Home.

I want to carve the pieces out you've scarred into my life
But if I take my blade up then I'll be left scarred, but twice
I want to scour the things you think, the way you act, and how you look
To find the peace I had before the liberties you took
I hate the way you speak
It makes me hate part of myself to feel so full of loathing
'cause of things
That barely even count
But those who matter don't consider all the big shit big
Shop I'm left sitting by myself,
Bitterly cursing rocks and twigs pretending
They're the beasts and they're the forests that I really fear
So I can crush or toss them out without
Waiting for you to hear
Me.