Sometime i hate myself for the way i act and feel.
Because heart and head are not talking to each other.
Because i feel so stupid.
Blind.
Innocent.
Dependant.
Because i'm a weight,
And instead of being a pound, i'm feeling like a ton.
And instead of being normal,
I'm acting strange.
And i hate myself even more,
To criticize my own self like this.
And to not change anything as i do it.
And to write it down and publish it.
But it is what we do, us, poets and artists :
We expose all our soul, as ugly as it may be.
VOUS LISEZ
•My own wrecked mind•
Poetry~Des fois ça va, d'autres non.~ Pensées quotidiennes, remises en doute. Poèmes, textes. Ce qui dompte mes pensées sauvages, les retiens en cage. Peu importe la langue, anglais, français, misère, douleur, apaisement ou bonheur.
