I am in a big house, with a maze of halls,
I go round and round in circles,
looking for a way out of this hell
I want to leave, I want to go.
How long will this hell last.
How long does it mean to test me.
Making me do this task,
is worse than swimming with sharks,
if someone wants to make me cry,
then all they have to do is leave me in the dark.
This is a living hell
all alone, with no-one I love
it is making me gaunt
making me tough
being lost is the worst feeling you can have
worse that your best friend dying,
worse than cleaning the kitchen after a roast.
But the feeling of being found
Is better than your mothers arms
and eating nothing but ice-cream when I’m sick