Maybe I'm just made of teardrops
And fear and loss and too much love
While others are made of the sun, the world.
Maybe I just can't see what they do
Maybe I just really believe nobody can truly and deeply love me
Others seem to exist, to interact, to create
I seem to destroy, to crash,
To live this inconsistent frightening life
Where is the manual
Where is the rule book
What do I need?
What fills this black hole of fear?
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