The risk of growing up

letting go, moving on, growing up
The things we say to ourselves
Some are real, some we force and stuff

But how much can we really digest?
how much room can we really compress?
When we hide the things we want to forget
When we justify the things we've done with regret

No matter how tired you can become
Those bad memories would always come
But the worse than that is when you realize
in your dreams, they are as bad are just more lies

Cause in between the line of real and fantasy
you know there is a part of you with whole certainty
that the things that are and the things that should
Could never become, but you want to, you would

And you force yourself to move on and grow up
even with the fear that those memories wouldn't stop
but all there is to it is certain sadness
knowing that risking your heart again is madness