Please...stop.

They are fighting. I wanna make them stop.
My hands turn clamy, my brain turns to mush, my stomach is flipping around, and I feel wrong.
I feel dirty... Like this is all my fault...
I wanna fly. Today, is not the day to fall. I just wanna fly.

I wanna leave. To go to a place, where the fighting seizes, and all you can do is talk it out calmly.
I feel the need to caress the pace of the want.
I urne for love.

My fingers slighty glide over the keys, pressing down, as the mind spurts out what it truly means.
I mess up, more often then I am correct.
Pressing "o" instead of "i", which is like my daily life.
I take things into consideration, but it seems like, that is never enough.
Like, I never have the correct thing to say.
When I believe I have the correct answer, life turns it's self around, and proves me wrong.
The answer was right there, but I feel the need to dissect it...



I am wronged.
I love feeling.
I need to stop.