Looking for a known wound because you still cannot differentiate someone that moves you and someone that does not push you to destroy yourself just to feel that you exist.
Exposed for who I am, no more hiding in the shadows, I’m praised by the weeds, I’m cursed to the gallows. A hero of the heathens, I’m a pillar of despair. A vast and vacant chasm of darkness, you’ll find me there.
The world is a ghost outside our door. In this fragile heat, I crave you more. Every glance’s a spark, every sight a flame. In the quiet dark, we both ignite the same.
You create the majority of your misery. Your opinion takes harmless moments and poisons them with fear, insult and catastrophe. Nothing out there is destroying you. Your own opinion is. You become the enemy inside your mind, and you feel every blow you deliver to yourself.