The **** that I do not give overrides the **** that I do.
But then again the **** that I do give is only contemplation on the hurt I have bestowed on others at this very point in time.
It is only due to the hurt I've used and abuse to hurt myself.
In turn this self hating hurt has hurt my friends, father and pretend mother.
I am selfish.
Self-absorbed, self-occupied, self-threatening, self-conscience.
Me, me, me, me, me!

They do not understand.
Every night is a bath of salty sweat, blood and tears.
Visions leaking out from my mind projected on dark walls, staring me in the face.
While, in next-door rooms, cousins, brothers, fathers, mothers, sleep silent and happy dreams.

I brought it upon myself.
Popping merks in a dodgy town.
Talking to David at the church while crowds of cartoons watched.
Confused, anxious and ever so angry.
TALK TO ME!
NO, SHUT THE **** UP!
T'was all a mistake that should never have been made.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the events that were to follow had never happened.
Drug accusations that were vigorously and victoriously argued and lied about.
So, now I'm left with two options.
Come clean and confess this mess,
Or, keep it all inside and continue with this selfish protest.

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