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Young hearts are soft
And the words that pierce them
Are usually the most
Hurtful simple things

We measure our shots
And the ones that others get
We battle the odds
By tearing them down

Words hurt a lot
To those who believe them
As if they were their god
Who decides if they live or they die.

The feelings survive
Erupting in waves
Of pain in your eyes
Blodshoot from your veins

It cuts like a knife
Deep inside your soul
The hope you can't find
Is no longer home

Young hearts are dried
Buried under heavy tears
Losing the joy of being alive
Escaping the world with a sigh of relief.