I woke up feeling wrong,
Looked in the mirror and felt unsettled in my skin
Who am I? Where did I come from?
Why do I question things? Where did answers begin?
Why do I speak?
Why is this voice a part of me
Is my soul a real thing?
Are they real, the things I see?
Where do I go when I die?
Is it blackness, a dark and endless sky?
Will I know I'm me when I no longer breathe?
Will I think about these unimportant things?
Will I remember my loves, my hardships. my joys?
Will I remember the things that fixed me and the things that destroyed?
How about my memories? Will they matter at all?
Do these events add up to my impending rise to fall?
Will I remember why I woke up feeling so wrong?
Or will the death of me silence my song?