The Hands Wanted To Take Him,

This ship that lives inside me,

Is not one I can steer.

Unlike the car I trust in,

The ship refuses to go my way.

The car is my comfort,

the ship is my fear.

Seemingly stable,

but so willing to sink.

When I open the windows,

All the water flows through.

Why does feel like I'm living a cruise,

When everyone else is on a roller coaster.

I want to know where the ship is going,

But this ship that lives inside me,

Is not one I steer.

Why do I feel like I am a square in world of circles?

But when everyone is suddenly a square, I think,

Does anyone fit in at all?

Why does it feel like everyone knows what you are thinking?

But when no one works like me, I think,

Does anyone ever think at all?

Why do things never work the way they're supposed to?

But when they do work, I think,

Does the work mean anything at all?

Why do we use words to separate?

Because when our blood runs the same colour, I think,

Does a label really matter at all?

The world is on my shoulders,

It weighs oh so heavily on my back.

When I look above, people who can fall,

When I look down, nothing at all.

Is it too much too ask,

To have someone to lean on,

And to catch me,

If I lean too far.