tell me why i do this. why i put my self through this same bullshit, day after day, night after tearful night. tell me why i cry myself to sleep as the not-so-subtle arguments of my parents parade through my door like a fire, igniting my rage like a barrel of lighter fluid. tell me why i pray for something different. tell me why whenever i think something is set in stone, the tablet shatters like my confidence as i start a conversation. i feel like such a fucking cliché , but these feelings arent easy to hide. lord help me hold my toungue. _______________________________________ the irony of this story is when i fell to my knees and began clawing at the dirt in front of the tombstone of my bashful childhood and your screaming at the top of your lungs, "let it go"