i am sick and tired of people
trying to get to know me,
trying to figure me out,
trying to show me i'm better than i believe,
that i'm nicer than i make out to be

i'm not

you can't romanticize me
into being some kind of anti-hero,
into being some kind of lost soul who
just needs saving
or a hug

no, no hugs
please no hugging
i'll break your arms
physical contact? i can only accept that from a
limited few, on rare occasions.
it sickens me.

some people are imperfect and flawed,
irrecoverable,
and they own it.

sometimes you just have to accept
that some people are pieces of ****
and they like it that way.

i like keeping you all at arm's length,
at the very least

who'd ever want to let down their defenses
in front of
strangers

with grenades disguised as encouraging words
and guns disguised as empathy,
or sympathy...

i won't let your petty, loving instincts penetrate my armour

*******

just let me be my own villain,
and you can learn to hate me

as much as i do and don't hate myself

I know what it must be like
to deal with me;
but I assure you
it's not as hard
as dealing with being me.

I simultaneously push people away,
keep them at a distance with falsities
designed to prevent incidents
like people actually getting to know the real me

and wish they knew enough to understand
why

why it is that I grew to become this.

so fixated on the idea of a father, just lately;
he's got a firm clasp on his own mouth
to stop himself from spilling,
wishing he could grip hard enough to
leave bruises
without thinking "look at me, becoming him"

pathetic, is what it is
shuts himself down with bitter thoughts and cruelty.
how ridiculous to look at mother's new boyfriend—
who she isn't even official with yet,
who she's only known for maybe four months—
and silently wish, more than wonder
"will i be calling you dad one day?"

his own dad, such a disappointment
that sometimes it gives him headaches,
trying to figure out who's more of a violent failure:
himself, or his father.
he has an ego the size of the moon
that compensates for his overwhelming insecurities
and hides his vulnerabilities;
but he can't escape his own self-loathing when there's
no one
to put on a show for

and since he grew up spending most of his days
alone and self-reliant

loneliness has been the best father he could ever ask for

His will was strong.
As was his life's journey.
Working hard, chopping the weeds of the untruthful and cruel out of his path, the warrior..
with his shield of knowledge, his sword of truth, and armor of understanding.....
The brave night slayed the dragons of cons
He placed the demons of lust to their tombs....
His armor shone the beams of blinding misfortune and lies back to it's Wizard
Fusing his evil eyes shut so he may never see good coming, hence, he
shall never strike again.
Riding his horse of determination, Sir. Heart braved the dark forests
of greed..to finally reach his rightful place on his throne.
His throne of life's winnings and control over his kingdom of Eternity.
Nothing can stop a well prepared warrior as he starts out on his own journeys and adventures in his life.
If one dons the armor of understanding, wielding the sword of truth, and
blocking out the evil temptations, which Those Dark Magiks can make your heart dark and impure, with your sword of virtue...you are the next Warrior.
The white Knight....Following Sir.Heart to the round table of eternal successors.
We then hold up all our whine glasses at the triumph celebration feast and we toast to the future of eternal bliss.