Words tumble out of my mouth,
Round, sharp, blurry, intricate
Just words but at the same time,
Heavy with meaning.
Conversations with myself.
People talk to me, but ultimately it’s a conversation with myself.
They are just the echo.
I wonder if they realize.
They are just the noise.
It’s not their fault.
It’s my circular conundrums,
Uncertainties, attempts to believe
To believe in something.
Conversations with myself.
People talk to me, but ultimately it’s a conversation with myself.
They are just the noise.
I wonder if they realize.
They are just the noise.
As soon as I find something,
My conversation will end.
As soon as I find something,
I will become your noise.
Until then, it’s just
Conversations with myself…
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