I've made my bed
I know what I've said.
But i still fill my brain full of lies.
The ugly bliss
Of satisfaction almost missed,
Like a a truth
That was secretly a lie.
A wonderful thought,
Comforting you think,
but really it's not.
Its a tear down your face,
As you tear holes in your face.
With your own self-righteous lies.
You do it for yourself,
it would be nice if it helped.
But it does nothing,
But make me cry.