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I feel things that I shouldn’t feel
It cuts deep I don’t know if it can even heal
Do I pinch myself or go along with it for the banter
pretend it’s not real
I’ve been saying things wrong in my head again
Do you think I should just stay in bed?
Maybe shower, change the sheets
and then go back under the false pretence I’m not scared
Isn’t late for the ones that make time?
Isn’t it fake: “I only want what is mine”
“I only want the things that truly feel real,”
Even if time’s the only thing I can’t feel
Well, I’m lying again
Can you tell?
The truth in between the lies that I sell
The only thing I can’t feel is my heart
Should beat til the end, won’t even start
They feel safe but I don’t think I can trust my gut
Gut that tells me their safety might not be enough
Enough for my bullshit and for my instinct that happens
to be fucked up
Sometimes my intensity sends me wandering
Wandering through thrifted finds
Occasionally I find signs
Like sevens everywhere
Take me to places that are not there
If I lose matter then I gain speed
Heavily compressed, travel quickly
I think, fuck it, I’m done anyway