The Question Came Up

Everything we bragged about
All those days I felt its my fault, I wasn’t up — I wasn’t up to date
Or wasn’t good enough to stand behind my actions, always with a question mark
Always unsure — maybe it’s just not me?
Maybe I’m right this time, people are what they are
Obsessive or stupid or smart or just maybe it’s just me this time
I’m sick of maybes, sick of asking why
Why is it not working?
How the hell can we be bored?
How the hell is life so short?
How the hell do we move on?
That’s too much to think about