Its Just Me

I don't think I listen very well, distracted by your upper lip

I feel like things are going south, I'm so tragic and so hip

I feel I'm running out of time, feeling like my hearts about to rip

I need a sign every now and then, when I question my own grip

What is wrong with being who I am, liking the figure in the mirror

It doesn't get easier with time, of that I'm very sure my dear

I see me through eyes of seventeen, in those eyes I can see fear

Listening to my trouble mind, I can't find what I want to hear

Maybe a rhetorical question, toyed with in my own psyche

Maybe I spend too much time alone, a causality of apathy