Sometimes living feels like flying
In a strange space without a ground.
Sometimes living feels like dying
Not knowing where my soul is bound.
Sometimes I deny what there is no denying,
so everything piles up on the ground.
Sometimes I feel like my knots are untying
As if my strings were too loosely wound.
Sometimes I can feel myself sliding
Down into the jaws of a Hellhound.
Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting
Enemies attacking from all around.
Sometimes I get sick of crying
And trying not to make a sound.
Sometimes I just stop trying
To be seen, or heard, or found.