Waiting for my thoughts to slow as I attempt to meet each demand.
Waiting for this is like an eternity, never knowing when it ends.
My feet planted on the ground with my head stuck in the sand.
The dynamics just don't work and the layers they don't blend.
It's like mixing oil and water, the two won'the ever be one.
Never ending struggle to make myself feel good enough.
It's like a sinking ship, a battle lost, before it's said and done.
Painting a picture through the scars that made me all to rough.
Rough edges, rough lines, the beauty lost with the trust.
The person who hurt you was supposed to, be your first love.
Raging lines of anger, slowly fade into the dust.
By the hand that was supposed to fit mine, like a glove.
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