How It Not Just Used To Be

What an odd position to be in:
Sat up until morning,
Listening to long forgotten music,
Actually trying to find something,
To feel emotional about.
There's plenty I could worry about:
Her, death, life, my expanding belly,
Cuts and bruises on more than the mind.
It really is suffering,
To be so sickly calm at 2:49am.
It's the closest to understanding,
Why the knives come out,
At times like this
In bedrooms like this,
Just to not feel like this.