Hush Hush
Why do I try to fall asleep later and later every night?
Scared to close my eyes, afraid to see the horrors within, the sacred Black,
To feel the vibrant pitch of life, its forceful pinch and tether,
Dreading to open them, and complaining about that too,
Why am I frustrated in my own decisions when I can change them myself but I don’t?
Pointing fingers at no one but myself,
How come I can’t make my mind up about anything?
I resonate with my interests but never leap
Why am I such a **** friend?
Why do I have to be so bad at changing the hollow beneath?
Why won’t I do it even for the ones I love?
Why am I a masochist without the pleasure? Just self-hurt and hurting
Why am I in my own head?
Why can’t I save myself?
