what are we
doing here? i'm questioning
everything i say just after i
say it, feelings, emotions,
i am
too emotive for this, and i'm lost,
unlucky, always unlucky,
and you don't know it but
you're killing me, i'm dying inside
just a bit, every single fucking time
i see you, hear you
feel so much for
and although you take morbid pride
in your everlasting fa├žade, it scares me
because you're
too good of a liar
and i can't tell what's
true and what's
(because, really, no matter how much i want to,
should i believe a sweet word you
and darling i feel horrible for doubting but
who can blame me?)