I woke up, it's Sunday morning
I'm supposed to be feeling different, but I
Hate myself
Because
Sunday has it's own problems
And every morning I confess I
Hate myself
Yeah
I wish I was more different than what I am today
I pray to be better but I just can't seem to change, so I
I hate myself
When I can't sleep at night I cannot wake up in the morning
And when I don't wake up I know there's always hell to pay, and that's why I
I hate myself
I only ever seem to care about myself
I treat this like a guest house where I'm staying in, and I
Hate myself
So who am I to stop you when you tell me that I'm selfish and
Who am I to stop you when the truth is that I'm self-centred, I
I hate myself
I want you to know that I care
I want to show that I care
But I can't
So it seems
That in truth I must be
Truly selfish and uncaring, a thief in disguise, and I
I hate myself
I woke up, it's Sunday morning
I'm supposed to be feeling different, but I
Hate myself
YOU ARE READING
The Darkness Within: Vol. 4
PoetryThird notebook, third book. This is where it gets real. Warning: Not for the faint of heart. Just kidding lmaooo (Or am I??) But yeah anyways, here we go on our third (unofficially fourth) rollercoaster ride! It will be undergoing some edits soon. A...
