This emotion I hate at best
Almost always, I fail its tests.
I let win the shameful urge
And touch you, and taint your world.

I watch as she break in the corner of my eyes
While I endulge myself in the company that others bring

She took a few breaths, picked up the pieces
And she sew her tattered heart with iron strings

Following the aftermath of your first big failure;
You can't help but feel lost even after obsessing over things that should've or would've or will have happened.
Your mother's fretting doesn't help at all, but you love that she cares so much to be even more frustrated than you are.
Then she suddenly invites this kid she judged too early over for dinner and advice on what you could do.
He agrees and the plan was done, so you invite him to the roof cause you've been telling everyone about it.
Talks of your first big failure once again and comforting words and hypocrisy and frustrations and tears and small bursts of warmth when elbows touch.
And suddenly your frozen fingers and toes don't feel so cold anymore.