We're driven in a hot ***
It's just the world's twisted plot
Coincidence? I think not.

I feel like I'm just a dot
In this world's big, big riot
Please tell me I should have fought

I saw him walk passed through me
His feet was all I could see
Coincidence? It should be

But no, this was all planned
It was stitched on every strand
Put on each and everyone's hand

Coincidence? I think not
He saw me and I got caught
His eyes were cold, without thought

Believe me, that day,
I was shot
Coincidence? I think not.

I believed in
mere coincidences
unplanned happenings that
coincided with my decisions
and every move that I made

I believed
it was coincidence
when you happened to
stand in front of me
at that cozy café
no one really knew about

I believed
it was coincidence
when you snatched
the last slice
of apple pie
and I made you pay

I used to believe
our relationship were made of
coincidences
the causes of our laughter
and our tears
and our common interests
they were all coincidences, too

Destiny
used to be
a word so overused
and cliché
that made me scoff
and cringe
whenever my ears
catch the syllables

But I am now convinced
that even when
I try to travel back
to the past
where we haven't existed
yet
and try to
alter our world

I am and will still be
destined
fated
to give you
the last slice
of apple pie
and my whole heart.

So many strange coincidences
So frequently
That I almost believe
They are not coincidences
At all.

I found it kind of sinful
Kissing you in my Sunday shirt
With our hair array and messy
Lips swollen pink

You were the bad boy I thought
I could never attain
I was the wallflower you thought
You could never talk to

We had met through a series of
Coincidences that didn’t add up
Only answer was that fate wanted it
To happen, no matter what

Million miles away,
in another life,
maybe we'll find at the exact point where planets align
and the clocks around will stop
because this time we would've recognized each other as one.

And when the sun comes up I hope it's my face that greets you, my touch slipping back into your memory and like a bad dream you wake up and remember what you broke. A house full of mirrors you walked in like a psychopath with a baseball bat; swinging and swinging and swinging. I can't change what you've done here and i cut my hands on all the shards of your mess trying to make sense of it all. But I'll wrap up all the wounds and grow stronger. I'll watch flowers grow out of my shoes and find my back. Because I know if a drop of memory floats into my mind at night I pray you can't fall asleep because of the roaring thunderstorms of my laughter, the way I'd kiss you like we were the only ones on earth and now all you've got left is yourself and the ugly truth that wraps around your neck and slowly suffocates you as each lie comes to the surface and people whisper each one to someone else. Because I know if people look at me with the slightest glance of pity I pray their glare cuts you like you cut my trust in so many different ways.

I can't fathom how you get a wink of sleep at night if my mind tosses and turns like this.