It's all in my head

We all pretend we're God at one point or another, but I own up to the times

Fictional conversations with you are always the best.

It's so calming to my ears, and perplexing for my heart.

I pull you in with my mind, and ask you, do you love me?

Even when I play God, you tell me the truth.

I could never justify my own satisfaction for your beliefs.

This doesn't matter anyway.

But I still care just a little bit.

Even though my sentences are becoming scrambled, and my lungs are becoming crisp.

I'm here if you ever call me.

How I wish time didn't exist.