Weight of Words

At War With Myself

Yesss new music..

I write conflicted so much
even I don't know which way I've shifted.

The pain within me was all I knew.
So, the first glance at happiness, pain ensued.

Writing about love didn't feel like me. Things like happiness, gone are the days of loneliness, so much more that I couldn't let it be.

Self sabotaging moments because I was afraid. I'm not someone who has ever felt it this way.

There's this constant battle between things I've always felt and things that I've started feeling. I write half truth and half misleading.

I'm the person who has to have it all figured out. I'm struggling with this like I can't tell rain from a drought.

Maybe that's why I'm the tumble weed in the wind.
There's no direction to figure out, just an ugly cactus to get stuck in.