I hate everything that these words have come to represent, all the things I refuse to do and all that I pretend

Yes I can write all about how badly I want this and that, but once my desires try to leave the page I stab them in the back

Never have I tried to tame the hell that I create, I only wait and watch as nothing changes and I stay the same

Any thought that might distract me from my quiet sulking act, pushed aside by the fears I've been feeding and letting grow fat

Every day I leave marks upon the skin of my note pads, keeping track of all the cracks in my conscience and all the dreams I wish I had

There lie some truths inside my mind that I won't dare to ever spill, because if I were to read what I would write it would make them real