At times I’d rather write my thoughts than sit and write my family.
Expressions of my youth reflect through truth and understanding.
The problem with that is understanding has been amiss.
So expressions of a twisted individual are what exist.
Should I take a razor to my wrists?
Never that, I live for pain.
Numbness to emotion would only drive a man insane.
The way I see it, my pain proves that I’m alive.
If I felt nothing of the world, it’ll only prove that I have died.
So why should I choose to view my blessings as a curse?
When the paradox of life is
That it’s so beautiful it hurts…