It’s buried deep inside
Truth is hell
Broken to smithereens
Everything is so torn
Can’t stop now
In a state of mind
Picking it up
Everything has changed
Sorry babe
Promise me, promise me
It’s all in the past now
No guilt, no tears, no stickiness
And just ask who can you trust
We think we know what we’re doing
But we don’t
Categories: identity, mental health, Poetry, Psychology, women