it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not yours
some thoughts need to be louder than musics
and some musics need to be softer than rough thoughts
the water needs to be refilled
the fire needs to be ignited
the soil needs to be fertilized
and the air needs to come back to my lungs
it's my fault
and it is not fine
i did what i did
and i get what i earned
i lived how i lived
and i'll hurt the way it should hurt
my cries shouldn't be sorried for
not even with the tiniest sorrow
i grieve for what i should have revived
and to make the most out of it was never mine
i slept it out, the way i did when i still had a chance to do something
an evidence to the unworthiness i'm holding
like my stress-eating
with the same level i'm abstaining
i sin and sin then sin and wonder why i can't be seen
i'm a sinner who pretends to be an angel
a saint who shall come down with Jesus for the rapture
perhaps before all that my soul had already ruptured along with all my potentials
it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not yours
where are the wild grasses on the garden they promised to fill?
where is the rain they promised to pour upon my dry field?
where do i actually fit my arms in order to wear perfection and belongingness?
who forces herself in a small sized shirt of confidence?
who pretends to be the apple bitten by the liars in the bible?
who swims against the current to prove she can?
and who flowed down the river helpless?
how will i tell my friends that i stepped on the trip mine i saw beforehand?
how will i let go of the grenade i should have dodged on the war?
how did i go from jet planes to barefoot walking??
but hey, i tried
no, frankly, i never tried
or at least it just feels that way
no, i think i tried
but no, if i did then why am i writing again?
could the mojito flood my throat rather than the lump i caught from the depression?
could the cake reach my stomach to replace the heart that has fallen on its hand?
i had it, i thought i got it
turns out i never did
results out!
i'm such a pretentious prodigy
glimpsed at like a renaissance painting and vintage antiques—
no sentimental value just a horror of which i can argue
God, one second you're a great invention
the next thing you are is a delusional philosopher
sitting beside freud, not pride at all
it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not your fault
it's not yours
getting older to be more witless
the younger me would have laughed 'cause she's a genius
i spoke a lot about the good
now i evangalize my imaginary friends about ruthless truths
about how this is my fault
about where i went at fault
about when i committed the fault
about who ludicrously made the fault