Like a wound reignited,
thats how I live,
Salt falls, and it takes me back into a time,
A time that I once lived, but forgot
Like when I look at keys,
and all I can see is me fearing for my life,
Hiding behind the door,
lodging anything and everything to save me,
Heavy or light I would defend myself at all costs,
That is what replays in my head when I look at the keys,
But then one day, she bought out the screwdriver,
Unscrewed all the nails in the door that kept that lock in,
Like she knew actively what she was doing,
So she could beat us without a door in the way,
To stop us from hiding,
And so we hid keys, and we used the whole in door,
using knives, scissors to keep them locked.
But she always found a way
Now theres dents in my own wall,
My Skin my skull, with dents all the way through
as Memory.