Windows.

Staying on topic is like eating the air.
And lungs do not count.
See that's how my mind works.
Only I'm a repeated object of disposal,
And you're the can that makes me wanted.
Notice when people stared?
Thought we were too open to be real,
And someone told me I was just pathetic.
I almost hit him. I almost cleaned his clock.
But I have an eleven year old scar on my face
To remind me to never back talk him,
Never speak the honest-to-god emotions again.
Well he thinks I'm just growing up too fast.
I said I liked the color purple, and being true.
Suffocation keeps throwing me a curve ball.
Now don't you see?
I just grabbed a fist full of my hair.