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I'm sorry that I cry
And that I want to die

It's not like I asked to be this way
It's just who I am

I'm sorry that I lie
It's not like I try

It's only when I have to
To hold my cover

I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
This is so stupid, sorry
Dear Layla,

Thanks so much
You ruined my life
Congratulations
I know you tried

All those mean words
They hurt
I pretended they didn't
But they did
And still do

"You're fat"
"You're lazy"
"You're stupid"
"You're slow"
"No one likes you"

It's fine though
You can say those things
It's a free country
Just know:

If I **** myself,
It's on you
Do you ever feel alone?
Not just alone, but
...alone.

Everything is kind of empty,
and you can't quite feel whole.
Sure, there are people around,
but you don't really feel there,
or maybe it's they who aren't there.

It's not just alone,
it's *lonely.
I can't quite put what I'm feeling into words.
I hate myself
I really do
Everything about myself
It's awful

The way I can't ever explain how I feel
Just right

Or how I am so freaking
Ugly

The way no one likes me
Because I don't fit in

How I never sleep
And cry each night

I hate myself
Totally and completely

Someone told me that this is selfish
Well I'm sorry
I'll just quit trying to hate myself
Because this pain is clearly intentional

**I hate myself
Hey, I'm sorry if I'm selfish
It's not like I'm trying to hate myself
It's just kind of necessary when you're me
Society says

Don't cry;
That's weak

Don't talk about pain
That's selfish

Don't be smart
That's nerdy

Don't talk much
That's annoying

Don't be yourself
That's stupid
At least in my case
HEAVEN:HELL

Neither beneath your soiled feet
nor above your purified eyes

:they dwell like dark and light
in your mind
:like closed fists and white flags
in a duel
:like fire and ice at the
end of the world

you live in between
two individualties on your burdened shoulders
there is an Atlas in you
though a galaxy's worth more
for he only has the world on him
and you have life and death that weeps at your call
heaven and hell buried in your
subterranean will

that makes you most human
Idk why I suddenly wrote a poem that first made sense then became a mystery to me.
A hero wears a cape
To hide the scars and hand marks in his nape
Keeps them hidden so he can fly and escape
Ugh ******* responsibilities eat up my writing time. I just feel like crawling in a cave and forget what I need to ******* do. I am seriously annoyed this past couple of days because of the pressure of doing what I should. ***** that
12:52
waiting for the magic
hour of one
so I can creep into
the dawn of my mind
like an uninvited guest
get lured by the labyrinth
of carefully woven thoughts
soak in the irreverence
of muted passions
in the crypt
of my shadow
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