I got ways to go, believe me,
The coldest ever—anaemic.
Stripping down the vices,
And by that, I mean me, myself, and I, *****.
The lord, call me your highness,
But don’t confuse me for the kindest.
Taking a stand isn’t the vilest—
Approach just like the golden touch, the Midas.
Reprimanding the bezoar,
Leavin’ all the poison behind us.
Close your eyes if you don’t want 'em to find us!
The God? I’m not Osiris.
I lack the means to guide us.
The path of the finest—
A fantasy, only to remind us
Of all the fallacies I sold to the crownless.
But what of the fellow deceased?
I mean the fellow seized!
The dreams of the unguarded,
The sin that we started,
To get us rewarded.
I killed the Open-Hearted,
Now dearly departed.
You reap what you sow—
Left me deep in the snow.
I peeked through the hole,
But there’s only me, the sole.
I staged a show,
To feel a little more,
But I never opened the door.
Now I see you no more.
You were sweet, a little slow—
Deserved love so much more.
But I lacked the gall,
And you took the fall.
I was built to protect you,
But you never left that little door.
Smiled a little more,
Should’ve hugged you some more.
Now echoes of silence haunt the floor.
You’re gone, and I see you no more.
I am to blame for this nuisance,
I am to blame for this rapture—
If only I didn’t fail to capture.
If I tripped, you too tripped—
Brother, we were trippin’.
I took a hit, felt sick, should’ve listened.
Where’s my foresight? My vision?
Where’s my f**kin’ intuition?
To hell with my indecision—
Blinded by pride, deaf to collisions.
Never cared so much for religion.
But you were the dawn of this coalition.
Fruitful conviction,
So much to offer, a pondering decision.
Rage consumed me; I created diversion.
Hateful I got for not understanding your assertion.
You had the gusto, a remarkable vision—
But I doubted and embarked on evasion.
Cursed at my frustration,
But no one was there to listen.
I carried the mission,
Prying open wounds to find division.
But I didn’t see my mistake.
Argued and raged, thinking I’d escape.
I broke, woke—but still bore the same face.
Tried to retaliate,
But it was too late to recalibrate.
I over-narrate, couldn’t hesitate.
Thought anger was relief, never did validate.
So much arrogance I failed to navigate.
Kinda felt like Medusa—
A head (ahead) of snakes, my own accuser.
-Asher Graves
Self-Loathing is a serious issue and a lot of people do that I too am a victim of this but when i think about the greatest moments in my life i no longer feel the guilt i used. The loathing is gone to some extent and this poem felt like a closure where i laid bare every inch of my mind and i felt free
