(Open a window
There is a breeze outside)

Lying in the sheets, sick to the world
And trying to keep a semblance
Of stability to its face-
All of my pretending is real.
The rain has swollen the wood in the door,
The sun has made it crack,
Either way it won’t let me out or in
And I was trying to run away-
Should the earth quake or the wind blow
Incase these walls might fall in-
To find the tallest tree to wrap my arms around
Should the sea try to claim me,
Its roots go down to the very core
And I will never let go.

I’m not pretending to be in pain-
I am.
Dreaming of Jerusalem