The past pumps through my veins,
reminding me to not make the same mistakes
like the times I let you get away.
I was fused with desire, didn't realise
that I was soo far out of my depth,
I was almost drowning.
Could've done better, my studies
came second to your sickly smile,
I wish I could've seen the future now.
But everything happens for a reason right?
I wish I could believe that now,
when I know each night I cry myself to sleep is wasted.
I'm repeating the same old mistakes,
that are becoming my trademark.
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