Words come flying out of my mouth, but head in a different direction.
And from that misdirection, a path of dismay and unwanted has risen.
The confusion begins to boil and I don't know what to do.
I make fire out of nothing, and don't have anything to put it out.
Sometimes, good thoughts can turn around to bite you.
I get bitten all the time... How pathetic...
I wish it'd stab me instead. I bring upon sadness.