These things which I so often wonder
this need to create myself
frustration forgotten through slumber
it's there when I wake, defeated before I rise
I'd pull myself out of this mire
if I could collect my strength
or muster an ounce of desire
finding the words, and making them mine

is there somewhere
I could separate this feeling from memory
disconnect myself from me'

desire inside to mistreat you
it pushes words out of my mouth
this cyclical pattern I feed you
the back