She says, "I gotta go, see ya"
The conversation ended
I think about the things I said
And ask what I'd intended
Just what was it I'd tried to say
And do I feel fulfilled?
I never know, I feel short changed
That need for more unkilled
I see as I look back again
It's shorter than it seemed
Maybe she didn't want to talk
Or worthless I've been deemed
Maybe I didn't say enough
And kept it all inside
Maybe I wasn't talking straight
And at my hand it died
Sometimes I think she hates my guts
And poses as a friend
At times like this I envy her
Her talent to pretend
But maybe that's what brought me down
These thoughts I allow
But I've been thinking them for years
I'm sure she hates me now
I'm paranoid, I'll make the worst
The basis for my thought
Or bits and parts of all of them
The worst parts that they've got
She hates my guts and it's my fault
Is truth as I perceive
And be it true or be it false
It's what I must believe
I'll take it straight, no feelings, hate
No pain, no fight, no buffer
If I can't live with this the truth
Then I deserve to suffer
If I can truly come to trust
These theories, though disjointed
They'll help me see it all as is
And not be disappointed