Emptiness on my skull where wishes once resided.
I was patiently growing myself into new plans.
But all I want now is to take my dream and hide it.
It's a loss of self I should have seen coming.
A history repeating itself between mothers and daughters.
A fast breakdown of the person I'm used to being
into person I don't recognise any longer.
It's always the route that leaves you no control,
that ends up being the thing that hurts the most.
The despair, the depression and a dark hole.
I wish being me was a culmination of choice.
I'm sitting here counting my stresses
in loose pieces and bald patches.
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