Escape.

I'm trying to leave,
I don't know where to this eve,
It doesn't matter really because at dawn I find myself back home,
A funny name for a place that strangles me each new day forcing me to atone.

How many more times will I carry this load?
I said I was sorry. You were there, you don't have to be told,
You want to see me on my knees?
You want me to hurt till my heart bleeds?
You want me as the poster boy for pain, the opposite of all that is sane?
I know you want me as the cautionary tale, the seiving cloth with stains.