dear elizabeth,

how are you? i hope you're doing well 

i, however, am ready to raise hell

i'll spare you the details, but i think you should know

that things are really fucked up

and its starting to show

i'm in a safe place that will allow me to feel better 

and I don't want you to worry

that's why I'm writing this letter

please don't worry; please don't be scared

it's all only temporary-

releasing this pain that i've beared-

it's going to help but i know i'll be scared

just wait

one day I'll be as happy as i dared

 

how are you

haven't seen you in so long

it's been a hell of a nightmare

something you can't put in a song

i have wristbands on both arms 

in case i've forgotten who i am

surrounded by girls

who've been through shit too, like damn

one girl is pregnant

nearly half are gay or bi

but there's one thing we have in common

we all just want to die

"believe in yourself",

"be the change you want to see in the world"

are written on the board

but in the corner in small print it reads:

"where the fuck is the lord?"

the nurses check our vitals

three or four times a day

but i feel dead inside; non-existent nor alive

like a figure made out of clay

"i'm going home," one girl says with tears in her eyes

and as smiles and jumps into the air

she says, "i'm tired of all my lies."

 

are you okay?

i miss you so much; i can't tell you enough

and i think about you every day

in here, things have been interesting

and needless to say

there's been some fist fights

and enough tears to fill an ocean

but i think i'll be okay