The End

Overdramatic while everything is static

Obsess and check my phone

Feels like I’m visiting a grave

Again and again and alone

Obsess, abscess, no I never got what I gave

Over think, no life line

I seem to do this every, single, time

God, I wish you were mine

But I’m talking about you as if it’s already over

And I’ll try not to meet you sober

But I say that for comfort, so I can pretend that I’m fine

I don’t even know you, but I have these stories in my head

I don’t even know you, but I’d already let you in my bed

Close to someone far, wanting something I can’t have

It’s hard to starve for food when you were never ever fed

Far from someone close, wanting love I never had

If she were free, interested I wouldn’t be

And she isn’t so my negative complex is glad

In the end

I’ll catastrophize and imagine the end, when there is no beginning

Why won’t these stories end?

Because the story of my future keeps losing to the story of my beginning




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