Inserting rejecting. Like already knowing the odds
Predicting the chances of one in seven billion.
Here with all these flaws that just felt broken.
As if anyone could get close
Because relationships meant imperfections
But it became too much to bare
Within the confines that make you feel trapped.
The stories lines and the things that repeat;
Every new put down just becomes another mental blow.
Jumbled and you felt so sure of yourself;
So sure of what you wanted until it wasn’t.
Until you were left feeling so small and insignificant
None of the rest ever mattered. Isn’t that ironic.