what doesn't kill you makes you grow

Another night alone on a dark road somewhere far away from my home.
The summer's on my mind, but it's far behind.
Face in a sink reflects these caffeinated insides.
It's life scenarios you think of while you're alone and on my own.
Like if my parents paid for everything I own, I could be somewhere in a classroom taking notes of things I already know, or think I do.
What doesn't kill you makes you grow.
This nine-to-five turns into twenty-four hours.
It seems that sweet escape from this cold, dark prison is a dream.
My priorities forgotten, stuck in a cycle on your knees.
Deliver with spite to my friends, my enemies.
Some days I stay and lie awake in bed just to breathe my quickened heartbeat.
I hear noises overhead, this face isn't strong enough to sleep.
I have a dream that I can't sleep on my own.
These days my pale reflection can't pretend that this is all I have to offer.
I hear noises overhead, this throat isn't strong enough to scream, or so it seems, cause now I scream on my own.
This cup of coffee burning my insides and sip after sip, I grow, and come to realize that this is moving on.