o b s c u r i t y

I was liberated from the hatred

but it crawls up to my skin.

have no idea what have made me

open it up by pushing in.

with blood relief materializes,

i wonder what is wrong with me..

will ever stop this inner crisis?

will ever feel I myself free?

have never thought it’d be so real,

so cruel, raw, oh bloody hell.

does this have some sort of appeal?

will anybody ever tell?

did i just made it up myself?

am i just lonely and confused?

glad, there’s no cure on the shelf

or I would take it and diffuse.

i’m sure I made it up for nothing.

perhaps I’m just a bit messed up.

i must admit I’m even laughing

when sitting there and throwing up.

is this attention seeking or despair?

i can’t figure it out anymore.

if this what life is then it’s not fair.

i beg to live my life that I adore!

living through polarizing feelings,

thinking they hate me even more

and poems as a form of dealing

woth constant state of being sore.

well let me tell you, I’m sure I’m fine,

and i am here to help you out,

but don’t get closer, don’t cross the line,

’cause if you leave, then i’ll burn out...

YY jan’18