I screw you over with my deluted talk, I talk to you with my random words.
I walk away way too many times & I return as if I am drawn to your pathetic existance.
I can't see how you say welcome to me every day as if I never left,
I feel your doubt but never how this can be.
I am blind to what you feel & you know that,
but me knowing that means I can't be so our rellating is neverending yet non-existant.
Help me, I've broken so many, I repent to your grace but I myself do not understand you or I.
So I furthermore lay here resting, thinking & mourning for what I was.
How can apathy taste so sweet, how can their drugs seem so vital when all they do is bring me down?
I have questions I couldn't even tell you about but somehow I know you feel the same.
As if all these words go unwritten, they are unheard.
Did you forget?
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