From One to Six Hundred Kilometers

The most tender thing you've said to me

is that i suffer from paranoia

sometimes when i wish to kill

i count from one to six hundred kilometersyet i fail to feel

i sail to sea

i fail to behave rationally

and i fail to grip

i fail to keep

i fail to think about me"if i were able to hate

perhaps hatred would bring me relief

i ought to have a steel brow

and a heart of stone"yet you failed to feel

you sailed to sea

you failed to embrace my insecurities

and i failed to grip

i failed to keep

i failed to think about me