out of sync

sometimes i ask who i am
to a window, or a mirror
i can't tell the difference sometimes
sometimes i stutter because i'm happy
or because i'm afraid of your
sunset eyes

sometimes i'm guilty of everything
and it doesn't matter who did
what, said what and meant it
i mean it every day
sometimes i can't beat that out of me

there's really no punching bag in my room
but i pretend sometimes, and sometimes
i just punch walls, flimsy walls
because there's nothing to hate
and sometimes i need dichotomy

sometimes we are two sheets of paper
that can't hold onto graphite
i am stained with yours, not quite
aligned, not quite right or wrong