mom, i'm sorry i don’t talk like i should to you.

will you forgive me?

happy little boy,

why do you cry?

monsters under your bed,

don’t let them inside.

what’s it to you to feel?

you're somebody’s brother,

someone’s pride and joy.

but lately all i do is feel.

nothing’s real when i think about it.

and maybe i contradict myself,

but ill call my therapist and see if she can help.

it might seem to hide is the right way to get by.

i take pills to be happy now,

and i know that kills the point,

but lately my life has had no point.

i'm sixteen and reckless,

wear your heart out on a necklace,

but still far beyond helpless.

somebody's brother,

someone's pride and joy.

what am i to you if i'm not silent?

did you want me to hold my breath till my cheeks turn a violent red?

but it's still me who's making the bed,

and finding new ways to get in my head.

happy little boy,

i know why cry.

those monsters under your bed,

they might get inside.

what's it to you to touch somebody’s brother?

happy little boy, don’t forget you’re someone’s pride and joy.