everything  got real quiet
and his thoughts opened up
and inspiration struck
and he knew that he was

it's not often he seems himself here
swimming through his cacophony of fears
he wonders whether he truly knows
the bounds of what his emotions hold

he wonders whether the eye of God shines itself upon him
knowing how deep and dark his need is for sin
it's not possible to know the truth of it
to know whether his emotions play him like a puppet

it's easy to see all from a birds-eye view
and he knows he'll look back and hate that he knew
what it was the entire time he was supposed to do

it's getting loud again so i think i should say
who this poem is written about on this day
his thoughts opened up and they went astray
he knows there's only one spot he can truly hideaway
so if you wonder who this poem is about
i guess you must look further than the words i spout

Love is the urge to **** yourself
It’s the immediate feeling of self-doubt, self-hate, and self harm when you think of how you hurt the one you love
I know the feeling all too well, because. I hurt the one I love, in a way I can’t undo. And everyday I regret it, and feel the pain of it.
I feel the pain often, especially when the one I love is upset, because no matter what I go through, they’re going through something worse.
The one they love, betrayed them.
Belittled them
Made them feel inferior to one they never felt inferior to
And that’s my fault
Not anyone else's
Mine.
I’m not asking for pity
I’m not asking for excuses
I’m asking for forgiveness
And I think that’s selfish.
Me wanting it to go away is selfish in my own eyes
My mistake will live with me throughout my life
I won’t lose it, no matter how much I run.
Some days I think if I just stop running, and fade, it’ll all go away
And I’m right
It would.
Love is the urge to **** yourself

May Autumn lie
Fading summer high
Ridding myself of heat and pain?
Filling myself with nameless gain?
I feel sorrow my lost love
But feel good because of a new spark
I go on like a homeless man rambling
Or your father who believes in conspiracies, who's addicted to gambling
I have no rhyme scheme, for I'm not seen
Nor heard, no words, can explain my feelings
I feel this way on a regular basis
I feel this way about a regular basis
I am self aware so I claim to be
But indubitably, no one's as clueless as me

I'm as aware as a fly to the swatter
I'm as aware as a dog to the kennel
I rhyme when I please, 'tis the way I shall be
I speak as if I were Shakespeare, you see?
Because the only proper English, is the one I speak
When really I'm just as average as you all.
Just another corpse, waiting for the Devil to call