Constantly talking about it.
Constantly doubting everything around me.
All the things around are constant, but me.
I’m never consistent or sure.
Never secure or pure.
Always scared or overthinking.
This or that.
Now or then.
When do we stop
When does this stop
Am I in a crisis
Am I being me
There’s no both.
Just me, and something I have.
Why can’t I understand and let it go
Why does every song remind me of you
Like a lover and the heart-breaker
Usually reviewing all the words we spat
Except you don’t talk
And I make up your words
Because you are a part of me
Although I can’t say we are one
So when it starts
Aren’t I the one to blame?
Let’s go again and again.
Till we see the story end.
