Nightmares continuously fill me with dread.
Maybe because I dream of you wishing me dead.
Driving myself mad to get you out of my head,
Need to stitch myself up, but the needle is getting harder to thread.

I can’t escape you, you’re beginning to visit me while I sleep.
Waking up in the night, just to let out a lonely, quiet weep.

You’re a self claimed Picasso, continuing to paint the pain in my memory.
The pain follows me into the day,
something that of a drawn out revery.

These thoughts of you occupy a racing mind.
Make the dreams stop, for all you do to me is remind.
I hate that I feel like this, but that’s just how I was designed.

People can't understand, what hurts more missing the other person,
or pretending not to.
Blame it on the constant memories of you, that I’m trying to cut through.

I hate this feeling of impending doom.
Your way of saying you still hate me, that I can only presume.