Something has to give,
For me to find a reason to live.
Something has to change,
For me to avoid the firing range.
Something good has to come,
For me to choose not to succumb.
Something better has to start,
For me to stop tearing myself apart.
Some other story must be told,
For me to finally come in out of the cold.
Mornings are the worst.
Trying to muster the energy to get up, get dressed and leave the house.
Trying to summon the confidence to get through yet another day without you.
To be honest, I’d rather not bother.
But I suppose I do have bills to pay.
And I do have to feed the cat.
Every time I make you laugh another part of me dies inside.
For you can never now be the one to whom I can confide.
It’s my own fault, I know too well, as I should not try to pretend.
But if you could only see past my facade, you’d make a cracking friend.