Endless muddle

In between all the hot coffee and recordings my head cannot vacate nostalgia.
At every thing you’ll stare blankly at you’ll want to find clues to the endless blame game.
Over analyse every situation a thousand times in your head
And end up crying inside while nothing, absolutely nothing helps.
You’ll end up in a world feeling horribly cold. In a world where no one cares. When your fighting thoughts with your own head.
Battles I’m loosing, as things are falling apart.
And never getting over the feeling of being stabbed a thousand more times.

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