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a 50/50 chance
Not that much has changed, (like I thought would)
In this brain that I keep buried in my head.
I’ve never turned into the person I longed for.
How pathetic do I sound to ears of gold?
Allowing myself to blame myself for everything,
As though I’m two different people.
If waiting is an ending then I’ve made all my laps.
Maybe I’ll wake up and be cured.
It’s a 50/50 chance, right?
Either I will or I won’t.
Cause I move my body in my mind,
But in no way can it add up to anything.
I’m just a hollow shell of what I allow myself to be.
