These words aren't my own.
The words are the tiny persons
in my head.
He helps me sort out
all the ******* from reality.
Sometimes he scares me with all my
unraveling thoughts he says,
that I never knew I had.
Brings out the bad in me,
the uncaring senseless
words I speak.
All the progress I've been making,
goes to waste when he opens his mouth.
I used to call him a friend,
but now he's the enemy.
Messing with my thoughts,
and my feelings.
Never stops taking jabs
inside my head.
He wants to stay until I break,
but I want him out.
So I can be my own person again.
They way I used to be, before him.
He came along when I picked up
my first joint.
He took it as a invitation to a party
inside my brain.
Where he was the only one invited.
Where he wasn't welcomed, and still isn't.
He makes a bigger mess up there,
messier before he even arrived.
As if I wasn't ****** up to begin with.
Through the years, he disappears for
a short time period.
Then, comes rolling back.
The day he leaves will be the day I die.
He will never let me be,
never let me think my own thoughts.
feel my own feelings.
But that's what I get,
for making some decisions
that I don't really regret.
So maybe I should live life as a party,
and make him content.
When he's happy,
he not so mean.
I actually like him.
But, then again its me to begin with,
just as another person.