It comes to this,
A bitter loneliness that i dwell in,
i wallow in self pity and grief
in the pain i always feel.
i am alone,
the voice in my head not real,
the life the family i have,
all but a dream.
i sit here contemplating my life,
which is only as good as my faith,
my low self esteem pointed out,
the negative features, the ones i doubt.
I'm always looking for answers
why am i sitting here every night in pain,
how can i help people and not myself?
i live in a reality one which can only be described as death.
i have become numb to all i inflict
i could ram a thousand pins into my skin,
but there no longer seems a point,
that of which of reason or control.
irony is just another one of those things
a million knives when all you want is a fork,
its like being in love with a guy,
but hes in love with your sister.
