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I'm not proud of today, I'm not proud of myself today
I'm not proud of myself today

I'm not proud of today, I'm not proud of the things I said today
Or the way I looked at you with entitlement, as if I was owed something
I'm never owed something

I'm not proud of today, I'm not proud of the way my heart was today
Full of thoughts turned into words I can say I hate
Words I'd want to take back if time could be molded in my hands

So now I think of the past of today,
and how my thoughts are the sisters of the ones before
And I wonder how they could all come from me
the wounding, the healing, the contemplating
They're all me

What a beautiful, scary thing to behold

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