It’s easier to be heard in a quiet room with just a whisper than it is up here
Constantly twisting and turning , bobbing and weaving, screaming and crying
Confusion along with a headache
Let me be heard where there is chaos, it speaks volumes
But instead I’m just a mouse strolling through a herd of elephants.
I can’t express how frail I am, how small I feel
A squeak to you is my cry from insanity.
In a quiet room there is no one, so who cares
In chaos we are selfish, no one cares
Writers'Block 