I try not to cry for
it's how I was raised.
so I hold it all in...
as if I was never fazed.
Nothing in life comes easily.
Life can't be put on hold.
And all I want to do is breath,
but my lungs, my heart is cold.
They've shaped me how they wanted
and they say it was out of love,
but I always feel so empty inside.
Is ice what my heart's made of?
For this is no trait inherited.
This feeling so cold in my heart...
Maybe I'm just an ice sculpture,
their cold and hollow work of art.
One day I am going to melt
or perhaps I may even shatter.
I just know someday I will break,
so what does it even matter?
