Beg The Question

I don’t know what it is about the comfort of a shattered existence
(but this is not about the boy)
It is all that I am used to, and all that I have ever created
(I swear, it’s not about the boy)
I know that I can’t keep relishing screaming
(Maybe it is about the boy)
I have to believe that if there is a silly narcissist in the world like myself
(But which boy, there are so many)
That my opposite must exist too
(This is definitely about some girl)
There can’t be a total terror if good is not a thing
(Am I the girl?)
And maybe I am not all bad, like I think
(I’m the damned girl)
Maybe I’m not as bad as I have been behaving
(With every single boy I meet)
Maybe there is two sides of it all
(I’ma typical, tired ass girl, I see)
A dark and a light, and both of them should coexist
Instead of only feeding one side and starving the other
(There could be a good girl in me)
I have no ideas, I have no answers
(I’ve loved a lot of boys)
My heart is broken but I broke it myself
(Can I love myself that hard too?)
I keep breaking it using other people’s hands
(I’m not a good girl at all)
I need to believe that there is sunshine somewhere
( I fucking loved that boy)
And that some of it is set aside, waiting
To warm the broken bodies of nee’r do wells like me…..


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