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Everyone and everything I touch burns to a cinder before me.
I hate it and look on horrified,
but something twisted just beneath the surf grins with pleasure.
Many things I say and do I fear are superfacial.
Somewhere deep down its not who I am,
but instead the thing I feel in my gut twisting my actions is really me.
It laughs when I fall.
It smiles when I fail.
It stares down on me when I can't get up.
IT feels joy when Im in pain.
I am the mask and it is the man.
Maybe I am the monster.
Its hard to tell when everything burns.
No more tears fall even if I try to force them.
No more pain is felt even when I held in the flames.
No more fear comes when Im alone in the dark.
This twisted thing rises up and everything goes away.
Everything fades like an image on a screen.
Like some fake thing that can't really touch me.
I feel only the cold and I hate it.
I hate the cold but I long for more lacking the ability to feel anything else.
Then my desires come, all dark and impure.
It pushes me towards them gleefully without any thought towards others.
When others are hurt it drinks their pain.
It feeds on my ill work like a leech or some slimey thing.
I think I feel horrible about it,
but in the end I fear I like it just as much as it does.
I fear that somewhere deep inside I love the role I play.
Everything becomes a lie and yet no one can catch me.
Through the silver tongue I become invincible.
Yet, that feeling again.
What is me and what isn't?
What hurts and what is numb?
What things are horrible?
What am I?
WHAT THE HELL AM I?
 iD00M · Wed Jan 17, 2007 @ 08:45pm · 2 Comments |
