I'm a quarter up the staircase and I'm already out of breath
It feels like I'm choking, but, the thing about it is that you never notice me and I think its because what I am to you is second hand smoke

To feel ugly, to feel ill favored, you know to wake up every morning and to question that if I'm instrument of God why can I never stay in tune? To question if I'm just noise?

Noise in a garden, or to be the albatross around your neck, but it squeezes my throat more each time just to repeat this shit back

I remember when I was young, I used to think my name was pronounced by clenching your teeth and just pushing noise out... I mean it honestly doesn't matter... I was a quarter up the staircase... Like an unwanted cough
Its going to itch in the back of your throat, its gonna crawl and you're going to feel it

A pest that uses your voice as its feet
But its funny to me (but its funny to me!), cause you don't notice the smoke until its hard to breathe and you never notice the staircase until its under your feet

So you come, or you go, but you know what? I'm still here
I have to live with everything that happened. I have to live with the burden, the heartbreak, the pain, but that's mine and I have to take pride in it. Because if I don't the rest of the world will take that shit from me and not give a fuck