Existing by Resisting
No doubt I have had it out with myself, bout after bout of depression hid so well by masks of aggression. I find deceit in my logical retreat... I exist between the possibility of addiction and an affliction which needs medication. I resist my own personal need to co-exist... no human contact, no reason to react. My words lack a quality to admire, I have squandered away my hearts desire. I am the liar, and the one to blame for putting out my inner fire. When I feel alone, it's my fault that lonely state is home. I write my story, the inner turmoil gorey... the ending lack luster and with no glory. Since I'm to blame is there really any shame.