i scoff at silence
and the inner workings of my mind sometimes.
when there's nothing outside it to slow the motion,
i think past reality and
consider possibility.
i'm winded, chasing
the hypotheticals that run too far, too fast.
i scare myself with thoughts
that i'm inadequate
that i'm wrong.
who's got it right in this world?
can we ever truly be certain
that our way is the right one?
we've got to have faith in something:
can it be me this time?
and the inner workings of my mind sometimes.
when there's nothing outside it to slow the motion,
i think past reality and
consider possibility.
i'm winded, chasing
the hypotheticals that run too far, too fast.
i scare myself with thoughts
that i'm inadequate
that i'm wrong.
who's got it right in this world?
can we ever truly be certain
that our way is the right one?
we've got to have faith in something:
can it be me this time?
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