Stranger

I’ve built myself around
What I can’t bare to claim
I’ve painted over all the walls
But they still seem the same

I sit withered in the box, sit withered alone
I held a friend from coming back I told him I didn’t know

This was never anything
The idea that I could be
Wholly reduced from the bottom of everything

I felt foreign in my own hands
Convinced that I’m not a man
That could righteously forgive like he ought to be