Was I wrong? Wrong in assuming
That nothing at all, without thought would just fall into place?
Was it hope, that something would change me
That led me to see the mistakes that had gutted my frame?
Was it strength, yearning for purpose?
Or weakness just desperately searching for something to fix?
To create, from self-induced ruin
To try and rebuild what remains from what I have destroyed
Why’d I make is so hard?
So quick to doubt?
So ready to fuck myself over…
Was it truth, logic or reason
Disappointment or fear that led me to question all things?
Far beneath the self-inflicted wreckage
I rest in pathetic assurance that failure is safe
Why’d I make it so hard?
So quick to doubt?
So ready to fuck myself again…
Was I wrong? Wrong in assuming
That nothing at all, without thought would just fall into place?
Was it hope, that something would change me
That led me to see the mistakes that had gutted my frame?
Why’d I make it so hard?
So quick to doubt?
So ready to fuck myself over
So ready to fuck myself again…
