Out.

Out, though trapped inside a closed route

no matter how much I shout 

it's still encased within the loud bouts

it's even more confused when in doubt

out, eternally inside for from the earth these walls forever sprout.

Just me.

Childish pain laughed at again, individuality gained

persistently outwardly cold, a mothers claim

just a painted ugly name from their tyrannical reign

close quarters fame, maimed, I pray for what remains

complex understanding rewrote for the laymen's

of the laying under the ignorant laymens 

so I spit out against the 'lay' hunted by the countless mens

my blood is the ink in these pens, each verse drains these veins

this brain is ghostly claimed from the laughing masses dubbed, sane.

MY, decline.

vision, wishing on the who, on which do I stare

and I've fallen where, and do I even care?

The rhetorical that spawns the moral of chasing hares

slow and steady, with the aim no more side-track with the blame

though the games the same your tracks to my side 

with it's own finish line, we've all got that to call, mine 

needed time to realign, to reline my design

to write the outline of hope around obscure fate's decline

for me thats truth, when the two and life combine.