I Lie.
I cheat.
I steal.
This is me.

I lie.
I cheat.
I steal.
Why can I not just tell the truth?
Its so simple.
You say “I love You'
And so do I.
But I don't.
I hate you.
When you say I love you,
I can feel the bugs crawling under my skin.
I want to throw up.
I want to hurt you.
But I don't.
I say “I love you too”
And stomach this anger that is boiling from my past.
Because maybe you
are lying as well.
I lie so much
there is a fog over what is
true
and what is a
lie.
Wait,
how can I even be sure?

I lie.
I steal.
I cheat.
Whoever you are,
I have cheated you
at least once before.
Said.
Done.
Taken.
Given.
To get what I want.
You haven't even realized it yet.
Cheating is an impulse.
I don't notice
until it is too late.
Until the damage
has been done.
Why do I cheat
even though I know
how much it hurts?
Do I like receiving
I mean giving
this pain?

I lie.
I cheat.
I steal.
I don't steal physical things.
Too easy.
I have no desire for these
cursed
wretched
pathetic
things of the world that are supposed to matter.
Instead,
I steal small pieces of
You.
I have stolen your
Sympathy.
Concern.
Innocence.
Judgement.
And the worst part
is that I love it.
How can I steal
when I know what it will do to you?

My cycle of three.
Beautiful
but only to me.
It is deadly
to you.
Builds me up!
Tears you down.
Why are you all so weak?
Have you not seen the real world?
Or is all I see
Hell?
Are you the blind one,
or am I?
Relieving myself through pain.
Intensifying yours.
How can you
look me
in my fiery but blue eyes,
that are filled with hatred,
and say that I have a conscience
when you
don't
even
know
the
real
me?