I think back on my childhood.
Times that we're still good,
Before they switched it up,
Like, "Now it's time for adulthood."

Spent 18 years behind a desk,
Told to play at break,
Now life feels unrelated, and it feels like a **** waste.

It isn't useless, it just isn't right.
Train me to throw fists,
Then toss me into a knife fight.

What'd you prepare me for?
I still struggle with my taxes,
I got a degree, but it feels like I'm still stuck with all the masses.

After all these years,
It feels like I was taught wrong,
Guided down a path that my heart and soul didn't sit right on.

And every now and then
I start to fight back,
But no one likes it when you start to vary off the track.
They pushback
Like, "No, not that".
But I am not you.
So, **** that!
And I struggle but you can't see it though.
Always talk about me like I'm a lazy bloke,
Say I'm part of the lazy folk,
But your path to happiness,
Is my ******* hell road.

I think back on my childhood.
Times that we're still good...

At least, that's how it felt back then...

I am ******* hurt.

I am in ******* pain.

I am trying not to be ******* angry.
I am trying not to feel it all.
I am trying and failing.
I am trying not to detest,
I am trying not forget my soul.

I am always trying to be happy.
I am always failing to be.
I am always teased with light
I am always tricked into darkness.
I am always wishing.

I wish I could be better.
I wish I wasn't scared.
I wish I didn't feel this pain.
I wish this doesn't last the forever it already has.
I wish some day.
I wish I get to be happy.

I hate myself for the things I do.
All of it torments my mind,
And hindsight is but a curse for my overthinking.

I fill with fear,
To many thoughts in my head,
So many unseen outcomes that spiral through my eternity.

Nothing ever goes the way of happiness,
And content is a feeling I have lost recollection of.
I wish to try again,
For looking at what I am now...
I hate myself.

My poetry is my diary.
The trail left by my soul,
The song sung by my heart,
And the places my mind dared to explore.

The smell of roses,
So sweet a scent.
Yet held in hand,
You insist on pricking my skin.

They say there's pleasure in pain,
For me it isn't the same.
I find the pain in the pleasure,
Go too far without a tether.

From a dark place,
To this heavenly space,
Then back again,
Lapping in this hellish race.

I break free but it doesn't last long,
Soon I fall in love,
Try write another song,
But I no longer get surprised when it all goes wrong.