-
I'm bitter because I'm sad
And my emotions are unstable.
I destroy everything I build
And my anger is a ticking bomb.
My explosions are unpredictable
And I hate myself because of it.
Too much anger, too much hate,
Two different parts arguing:
One defends that I have the right to be angry;
One defends I don't and my depression is the only reason.
What's the point of making friends, connection, happy memories if I'm just going to always ruin them, cut off their fucking air supply.
What's the point of living?
-
YOU ARE READING
「 poems 」
PoesíaWhat's in here? Oh man, I bet you could never guess it unless you read it. Not like it's in the title or something, oh noes. or Poems I write when I just feel like it. (Warnings: Swear words, angst, and vast amounts of sadness.)
