I love my bedroom.
It’s a nice and roomy place.
I mean, this is where I hide away
When there are problems to face,
And it’s funny because I never leave.
It’s not that I want to leave;
I love it here.
It just took me a while to realize
The truth behind what I really fear.
Loneliness feels like you’re trapped
In your own private world.
Except there’s no heaven there,
And God is barely a word.
Maybe He just doesn’t want to help me.
They say God is always present;
That He’s always with you, even if you don’t need him
But if that is so,
Why can I only hear my own breathing?
I think He’s mocking me.
He’s watching me inhale and exhale;
Maybe he’s planning my inevitable doom.
I’m holding my breath-
Why can I still hear breathing in my bedroom?
Now I'm wishing for loneliness again.
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