i have no idea
i can’t really see
i don’t really know
who or what i want to be
my path is all shrouded
my maps are all grey
and these lines in my eyes
they are there to stay
and every single lie in my heart
a moment wounded at best
from the noblest intention
to the slightest of jest
i wear this cloud of self doubt
like a silent, personal curse
i’m afraid you can't have my best
until you’ve seen my worst
i bleed from my soul in silence
a surreal stigmata of stagnant stares
cold and lonely tears and fears
not sure/can’t tell if anyone cares
the scars inside are no less real
than those that i allowed to mend
a frenzy of morbid self flagellation
i am my own whipping boy once again
About the Creator
Bren
“I know what I mean it to be and respect that someone else may read something entirely different.” Me
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