dreaming of a future i still sleep in the past
no thoughts of the present shall ever last
because in my masochism all i deeply crave
is to build my house on a ******' grave
i miss who i was and yet don't want to be her
why isn't life ever clear but a burdening blur
everything i believed in no longer exists
changes too bold, is what life insists
but i ain't ready to move forward yet
or am i? but still do i fearfully fret
how did i talk to strangers for hours?
listening to their tales of scars and stars
i am back to that time when pressed i
hearts on people's stories for no reason why
but don't know if i want to be that person again
desperate for affection and easy prey to pain
i have a beautiful human around me
who sees me and still loves me infinitely
yet i feel this way and it is beyond my comprehension
-what is future if not the past's present extension?