So many I've written about
Many more to see
So little written about me
Much more I'd rather be
So many I've thought about
All the differences I see
And met my eyes
Is there something to see?
Something on my face?
Never has white paint seemed so grey to my eyes.
Why argue about the amount of space between the lines
When we should be questioning the lines
The crosses of the t's
The dots of the i's
Why document my life
Day by day?
To see just how stupid I thought I'd stay.
Holding myself accountable.
**** the world and all its depravity.
Depravity - moral corruption; wickedness
For the first time in a long time,
I looked in the mirror.
I didn't know who I was,
but the image couldn't be clearer.