I have forgotten myself
There's a bug in my stomach and it is crawling around. It is eating my intestines, it is forcing me down. There's a moment of clarity and then I can see, this bug in my stomach, its turning on me. Its myself, but more, more than that, too, its me, but with hatred, a red colored ghoul. I cannot purge it, I cannot cut it, and I cannot, far as I see, cure it. Its intolerable and insufferable and here for the long haul. I will die with this bug, this evildoer foe, I will die and know one will truly know; they will not know, they will never understand, how this bug in my stomach has torn me, left me, a mere grain of sand.
I live in the shadow of myself. I'm constantly fighting my past. I can't be as good as I once was. That glimmer, that hope, was all that I had, and now I have nothing. I'm not alone, but might as well be. I'm so tired of sticking around for others, when will I feel like sticking around for myself?
At this point in my life, I feel as clear as glass. I'm wondering if I have ever truly known happiness? How do we get back to "that one time..."? I'm growing older and no wiser, making mistakes as if I were a teen. I feel almost forgotten, but at the same time, I feel overwhelmed by attention.
I keep wondering if the mistakes I thought I had not made were actually mistakes I should've made. Should I have run off and disappeared to California? Was I supposed to get on that plane in December and never look back? How many of these close encounters are chances to live a better life? Or perhaps I am being ungrateful and not seeing how wonderful life is right now?
I think I have come to the conclusion that I am going to die one of three ways: Cancer from smoking, old age, or suicide.
I'm a tortured soul.
I live in the shadow of myself. I'm constantly fighting my past. I can't be as good as I once was. That glimmer, that hope, was all that I had, and now I have nothing. I'm not alone, but might as well be. I'm so tired of sticking around for others, when will I feel like sticking around for myself?
At this point in my life, I feel as clear as glass. I'm wondering if I have ever truly known happiness? How do we get back to "that one time..."? I'm growing older and no wiser, making mistakes as if I were a teen. I feel almost forgotten, but at the same time, I feel overwhelmed by attention.
I keep wondering if the mistakes I thought I had not made were actually mistakes I should've made. Should I have run off and disappeared to California? Was I supposed to get on that plane in December and never look back? How many of these close encounters are chances to live a better life? Or perhaps I am being ungrateful and not seeing how wonderful life is right now?
I think I have come to the conclusion that I am going to die one of three ways: Cancer from smoking, old age, or suicide.
I'm a tortured soul.