It's in the deepest, darkest parts of my brain where I know who I really am. When I come to the conclusion that I'm vile, it makes me want to die.
Not all the food in the world could stop the pain I feel after I do it. After I successfully use them. Sometimes I don't succeed and I feel angry and rejected.
I have all of this pain built up in my chest and I can't get rid of it.
Who would love me? How could I expect them to?
I only ever put myself in toxic places. If it's bad for me, I don't care. If you tell me I can't do it, I will. I have motivation for nothing else than the toxic things in my mind.
My own mother said "Remember, money is the root of all evil."
I said I didn't care and it's sad because that's how I honestly feel. I don't care. The only thing that hurts me is the fact that's I Should care and I don't.
YOU ARE READING
Brutally ME
PoetryOriginal poems Just original poems I have written. They are deep, true and pretty damn real. Read them or don't.
