Toxinebulaic
winter is coming
- Aug 2, 2023
- 38
And every time I stretch it snaps back
I try to reach out to others but my arm snaps back
I try to stretch my body but it snaps back
I try to resist my impulses but insatiably, they snap back.
I try to say in another way what they do to snap back.
It's easy to say I don't hate myself because the self I hate is a reflection of what I see in others, and I try to respect them.
Even when I hate what they do, say and are. I'd never be so blatantly honest as to voice the concern.
Because to hate others is to say that one deserves to be hated, and if I'm to be held at fault for anything I already know my sentence.
But far be it from me to deem myself judge jury and executioner on the wretched self inflicted case that is my life.
Sometimes I try to blame my parents for making me, but if I blame them, who's to stop them blaming me?
I did what I did, I said what I said. Now all that's left is to suffer in bed,
and then again, out in the sun, until my daily work is done.
So if the world would be so fickle as I'd be in my hate,
Then maybe my friend death and I are due for another date.
So even when I try to hate, it snaps back.
I was good for a time, and then it snapped back.
I really hate that it did, because I could've been happy.
What mistake did I make? How can I return?
Easier still, how can I let it burn?
The path of least resistance is a path of crushing lows
But maybe I should travel it just to say I've been that low.
Nevermind. It's a rotten thought. I shouldn't think it anymore.
But thinking over anything else leaves my entire body sore.
I hate sickness. Maybe it hates me back. Maybe I shouldn't hate what I am.
And so it snaps back.
I can't even hate myself, it's too hard.
Guess I'll have to get some sleep.
I try to reach out to others but my arm snaps back
I try to stretch my body but it snaps back
I try to resist my impulses but insatiably, they snap back.
I try to say in another way what they do to snap back.
It's easy to say I don't hate myself because the self I hate is a reflection of what I see in others, and I try to respect them.
Even when I hate what they do, say and are. I'd never be so blatantly honest as to voice the concern.
Because to hate others is to say that one deserves to be hated, and if I'm to be held at fault for anything I already know my sentence.
But far be it from me to deem myself judge jury and executioner on the wretched self inflicted case that is my life.
Sometimes I try to blame my parents for making me, but if I blame them, who's to stop them blaming me?
I did what I did, I said what I said. Now all that's left is to suffer in bed,
and then again, out in the sun, until my daily work is done.
So if the world would be so fickle as I'd be in my hate,
Then maybe my friend death and I are due for another date.
So even when I try to hate, it snaps back.
I was good for a time, and then it snapped back.
I really hate that it did, because I could've been happy.
What mistake did I make? How can I return?
Easier still, how can I let it burn?
The path of least resistance is a path of crushing lows
But maybe I should travel it just to say I've been that low.
Nevermind. It's a rotten thought. I shouldn't think it anymore.
But thinking over anything else leaves my entire body sore.
I hate sickness. Maybe it hates me back. Maybe I shouldn't hate what I am.
And so it snaps back.
I can't even hate myself, it's too hard.
Guess I'll have to get some sleep.
