I annoy myself,
my God I do,
One moment, I love my soul,
I am the sun and I can see my rays stretched from my skin,
eyes and lips,
reaching others and painting them gold.
Other times, I hate my mind, my heart,
I am a void and I can see black smoke ripping from my throat,
teeth and fingernails,
reaching others and draining them dry.
Oh, I’m so dramatic,
I use big words, metaphors and imagine myself,
terribly interesting and spiritual.
I’m a good person, a good person, a good, person
No, I’m a pretentious girl with enough anxiety to fill the Nile.
And enough self-hate to fill a swimming pool
(See, that’s not even true.)
I love, I’m a child, what is love?
I describe it eloquently, I describe hate and pain and rage
I am a baby in the roots of the world, how can I understand?
I demand from my friends, my Head and my Heart ,
I demand their affection, their love and time,
but I’m a child in the ways of people,
I don’t understand the norm, what is wrong and what’s right?
I can’t say this, can’t act like that, I can talk about suicide, but if I mention love
MY GOD DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT
I can warm myself by the light of their affection,
but move slowly, don’t scare them away,
they’re too nervous, I’m too open?
Too closed off?
Why is it when I decide to feel something,
I pick Depression and Cynicism wrapped in charisma and a killer smile,
I pick Self-Hate and Suicide wreathed in laughter and gorgeous lips.
I suppose, because, we’re all a little fucked up
I want to heal and love
and that’s just my type.