My insecurities could eat me alive.
My mind is like a whacked beehive.
It’s busy and out of whack with everything around me.
I have horrid stories I could tell you about my past.
I pray that this doesn’t last.
But every day my issues seem far from running out of gas.
They are going the distance.
Let’s talk about mental resistance.
Too fat, too skinny, too tall;
My self-esteem consistently trips into a pitfall.
Paranoia, paranoia everyone is out to get me;
I feel like I am a target the size of a giant sequoia tree.
I started desiring suicide back when I was nine,
and it is still so at twenty-nine.
That is twenty years that can be used as an excuse to pick up a nine,
Millimeter pistol. The normal kids use me as example to outshine.
I cut my arm inching closer to the vein; That’s my foul line.
“You just enjoy cutting yourself…remember its down not across the line.”
Your comprehension of me is so far off it hit a coastline.
Maybe an entity destined for my soul to be beaten and metaphorically dipped in brine.
Screw what you thought
Or how valiantly you fought
Vengeance will be mine and delivered at interest with a fee
In comparison to what you took from me.
It goes without saying that, if you were all love and fairness
Then I wouldn’t have been beaten to the nearness
Of emotional death, promoting me to slice my own flesh
And down a bottle of pills.
It’s true; I never been an image that you adored.
To you, I was just like a broken mirror.
Such divergence left you utterly floored.
You casted me away as a holy terror
A human cancer
to society meant to be scorned by the lord.
And to bring out the hidden killer
In you; so as to chop my ego into pieces for you to devourer
Everyone screws up
Mistakes are the squeals of a pup
Trying to imitate its father’s bark
So don’t disown your failure as a simple lark
And remember you build a wall
Brick by brick; a failure and a fall
are nothing but potential to perfect usage of the utensils for perfection.
Additionally, don’t listen to naysayers spewing their judgments
The authenticity of their words is as fickle as mints
Simply masking the smell of their hypocrisy
In the mind, the river can flow up or down
So don’t call something red when its brown
Or don’t try to plug something round
Into a rectangular slot.
Meaning if you are sad be sad and accept your lot.
It’s as easy and breezy
As being cool on an autumn day or toting a valise.
The hard part is resisting the current
Or being determined
To see the color brown instead of red
or plugging a brick into a pinhole.
I want to impress her.
Such a sweet soul akin to a fine liqueur.
It’s cosmic when we are near,
always at a small distance like orbiting planets caught up in a platonic
connection, and it would be moronic,
to think otherwise.
She has more than a few orbit her when she is way,
the goddess of her own solar system. There sunrise,
Let me be the first to tell you that you are looking at a superstar.
I’m like the lettuce and dressing in a salad bar.
My competition is sneeze guards cause getting expelled on is the entire of there repertoire.
my super talent is how I effortlessly not give a fuck about the opinions of others.
My talent is gallant the way I’m like snuffers
For multiple unsolicited opinions.
I am a phenomenal jerk too
You have no clue.
Ill fuck around and throw a can of mace at someone’s face
Then drive around my neighborhood with the bass
Booming propelling the sounds of literal booming explosions
Just a reminder of the bombs over Baghdad, a modem day Trojan
Covering the advent of business men boasting
Broken promises of explosive gains.
Let me be the second to tell you that you looking at a superstar
I’ll fuck around and buy a car
To tote around my ego while I ride the MTA
Just to save a buck
And maybe be in luck
And have someone try to mean mug me
I’ll riddle them with a 9mm and then hire a lawyer to get them to pay my medical fee
For having a sprained itchy trigger finger.
Let’s not linger
on the subject like the way I jetted from the bus
then tried to hop in the car tooting my ego but couldn’t fit. That plan was a bust.
Got locked up.
Went in and offered free blow jobs. Basically my mouth was the grace cup
after I chewed a man’s face off.
You don’t understand my feelings
Me and life have horrible dealings
I am reeling in empty fish nets and bleeding
Out. I’m an extraterrestrial being
Stuck under the atmospheric conditions
that favor the savage and brute.
Basically I’m just a shoddy chest to loot.
One mistake after the last.
Another mistake after the next.
I’m lower than the lowest caste.
I just don’t feel like anything feels right
I am running down a tunnel with no light.
I’m not okay
The worse event of my life was my first birthday
Everyone flicks insults at me like I’m an ashtray
I’m a rebel without applause
You attack me with a righteous cause
In mind, but I am a just an outlier,
An easy target to aim at and fire
I hurt so bad inside
Each conscious second is a chide.
I think of suicide.
Sometimes it kills the pain,
But only temporary.
Furthermore, my savagery
Just eventually multiplies the pain
Like the infection of bacteria inside a slain
Body. I don’t belong here
Life is too much to bear.
I’m like a hare
Running in circles after its own tail.
That tail is my happiness or my bail
Out this world but I’ll never catch it.