The End

In my head it all makes sense. But my heart keeps telling me I'm wrong. Sometimes it's a picture, a smell, a song the makes me dream.
My first love wrote me once a poem that I converted into a song. Today, while smoking and thinking of you, of us, I realized that I could have wrote the same words today:

Feeling sad everywhere I go
There's always something worrying me
Can't be happy where I am
Thinking of all that I could be
(...)
Let me rotten in a bag
Leave me hanging in a tree
Run away while I'm asleep
Forget about me

Is it time to leave it all behind? Can't seem to decide if the end is the right decision. Am I running away or finally facing the situation?
My dreams wait for me and tomorrow will always be a new day... Tomorrow!
Tomorrow may be too late
Tomorrow I may wash it away
Tomorrow
No words to sing