My mind is obviously a mind of its own.
My mind is convinced I am a manipulator.
I empathize greatly
I assure people I understand
and I try to change them because I see fault.
Is it wrong to try and make a person love themselves?
Is it wrong to distance them from hate?
I somehow feel wrong.
They have their excuses for hate
I have mine against it.
I still feel wrong
I don't know what this is.
My mind is convinced I'm terrible.

Your love is average
I don't know why I seek it.
Perhaps its the most I've ever received.
At a certain level I cry knowing **** well I don't deserve average.
So don't pity me any longer, just leave
I would do the same.
I'm the problem.

Sometimes I don't care.
But this one time,
I stared in the mirror as blood drooled down my naked body.
Death is near of course, and I'm not happy with it.
The Devil loves me doesn't he?
His love is hateful
He had to ruin my one chance for being happy.
I should have instead drank ***** to pour my heart out
and die choking on my own ***** as I slept.
Doesn't it sound nicer to enjoy your way out than not?
I regret not truly living, I could've tried to be happy.
But I was never happy, there's no difference.