PRISONER 

Way Too long I laid down my head between these broken walls around me. 

Why is it so hard to step out of [bad word] and start breathing again, start living again. 
Is it because of the dust, that veils my eyes? 
Or the burden that is paralizing. I can barely breathe. 

I am a prisoner of my past. 
My wounds won't stop bleeding until I let you heal them. 

As I see the sunlight gracing the boundles land. 
I notice that the sun never [bad word] tired of rising and setting again and again. 

This is why I pull myself together and start walking with my sore feet, moving with my sore body. 

And my wounds, they start to heal as I decide to let you heal them.