Things cycling in my head on repeat. Repeat.

Idea after idea makes sense for a moment, I hold it, but can't control it. 

So the day passes with masses of people who gather,

But no matter where they're goin, time keeps rollin,

And I am stuck drinkin coffee on repeat. Repeat.

Day after day things change and my mind's game is to go from sex to gender,

From writer to defender of faith, of life's great purpose. You see, 

I'm just a faker from the start.

I'm nice but I'm not.

My Words should cut deep, if I'm sayin what I'm believin,

But how much of my belief is affected by judgment and perfection?

So day after day things change, but as they say it stays the same

In my life. How much of me is reflected not in the mirror but in my depression?

When I am weak there's a certain vulnerability.

I must write to express not to convince the opposite sex that roses are red,

Violets are blue, oh how much my heart longs for you.

Patheticare petals, lyrics of these verses

That lightly cover the pain everyone traverses.

As I read this again and again does what I say make sense?

Does it have to make sense? Since we all know life is made up of resolute answers..

Whether I can keep my attention to span around the purpose I am trying to convey 

Or my mind cuts itself short in ability,

Why must my capability compare?

Because again and again I flaunt my faults then try to cope.

Don't spare me the pain, I deserve nothing less, of acting, always acting, on repeat. Repeat.