My poems, my thoughts
my pain on paper
they're all me.
Me me me me me.
I write these things for you
to find
And offer up my pain as
a selfish gift
an offering
a sacrifice.
Look at me.
Understand me.
Me me me
me me.
I give these things as barter.
I know you, your desire to feel
to see pain that isn't your own.
To think that
maybe
someone else has it harder than you
and secretly, happily
embrace the pity.
I understand and still I ask
Accept my offering.
And in return, give
Me me
Me me me
a feeling of understanding
like somebody cares.
More.
Give me
selfish me, twisted me
tired me hurting me addicted me
my drug.