I hate to write,
and I hate to lie.
but they're synonymous tonight
and yet opposites all the same.
I love to give,
and that's alright.
I'm quite insane,
and my life's a night.
My life is a shame,
but I'm alright.
I'd hate to survive,
but I'd love to kiss.
It's all I've ever wanted,
I'd love some bliss.
I'd love to love,
but it's always gotten away.
I've always gotten hate,
I've always gone insane.
Like I said,
I love to give.
But it makes me feel like a sieve;
-something simple,
-something bleak.
-simply something of a crystal,
-someone you can't see.
I hate to writhe,
so I hate life,
I try to thrive
before I think twice.
I hate to live
but that's alright.
And before I die,
as I might.
I must say,
either way,
It's quite alright.
It's all the same, contentedness, misery, we work with it. It's the same when you get down to it. I just wish that sameness didn't provoke such divides in my mind.
Sorry for being a dumpsy downer, I try not to, sometimes.
**** it dog, life's a risk.
Forget it dad, life's alright.