September 17, 2008
This skill that I lack,
The inability to decide,
Which is more important than the other?

Torturing those who I care about,
Giving worries to those who don’t need them,
Failing to help those I love.

Caring only for myself,
Hurting others,
In an attempt to clear my mind,
Of what is pressuring me.

Of my situation,
The rage forms a wall
Hiding the truth,
There are others like me.

That which I have,
That which will never leave me,
The rewards are fatter than the consequences,
So why am I upset?

That which hits,
But is not visible,
Some never meet it,
Those few are lucky.

My mental state,
A state without legislature,
It has no border,
It has no laws,
It is free to do,
Whatever it pleases.

Something I have suffered greatly,
Something I have inflicted as well,
How can I be relieved of pain,
If all I do is bring it?

My existence is not this,
I see no point in being here,
All I have done is hurt,
They might have been better off,
Without me.

What I feel sometimes,
Even though people say,
That I have meaning,
Sometimes I fail to see it.

Something I have lost.
I don't take pride in what I have done,
The people I’ve hurt,
The actions I’ve taken,
But others take pride in me,
For some unknown reason.

The art of feeling,
And while art takes practice,
So does emotion,
It is the hardest thing to master,
As no one ever has.

Something you believe in,
I don't believe in myself,
I've lost self-trust,
Why do others trust in me?

One who saves a life,
Saves someone from certain death,
I used to think I was a hero,
Until I was saved by one.

Something I can trust I will always have,
Even when I don't deserve it,
Because my friends are good friends,
And no matter what I do, they will forgive me.

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