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I promised to always be honest with myself, and to be honest about my feelings towards life in general. So I tell you of all the things that make me insecure, that make me angry, that bring out the worst in me causing my hairline cracks to resurface. Then comes the shattering (KSHH!) as much as I force these plastic smiles and smooth laughter; my emotions take hold, causing my innerself to rage war. As my bombarded thoughts collide against my twisted emotions, my brain flips on the autopilot switch, to protect the rest of me from a total meltdown. But you seem to think that it's all an act. Curse you! You with your narrow minded thoughts thinking that I'm spoiled. I’m struggling to find myself while searching for that comfort of sincere acceptance. All the while your confusion spreads like poison under my skin --Pulling at my defective hardwiring. I can’t run fast enough away from the chaos bleeding from your numbing lips. I want to bite your sensual tongue and bleed it dry of your tasteless wordage. I both, love and hate, your willingness to overlook the tension shifting between us. And when your eyes meet mine, I only wish that you could see me the way I see myself. I see nothing yet...You manage to conjure up a tainted beauty, mixed with a side of, walking nightmare.  I cannot stress to you enough that my heart is numb; therefore I'll hurt, whomever whenever, to prove a point that I've had enough. So here I am, steady filling lifeless pages with haunting words. Like a repeated echo, a constant reminder of all my nothings and un-achievements reaping havoc in my mind. I'm a void streaming carelessly through each scene. You would think that I'd grow ...A Little Bit Wiser… from constantly confronting myself, but I haven't. Sometimes I feel as though I have a pet demon, the guardian of my thoughts and keeper of my soul. ... Yet I find no chains or strongholds bounding me to such a beast lingering inside, further inside. I used to believe that I welcomed the misery surrounding me. But now I’m not so sure if I ever welcomed it at all. I look around. All I see is empty faces with without care or meaning. Everything and everyone looks dead on the outside, completely spoiled. Poor basterds, never had the chance.

#StrippedOfPerfection #AmWriting #JLOdomDotCom #BlahBlahBlahDotCom #WriteOn #DarKpoetry


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