self love

Thousand kind words to make me better But the one insult and all confidence shatter Who dove into me with a fork and a knife. The slow cancer of my life, Every night my bedroom becomes a psych ward. Remembering the past I was toward. It’s too heavy to carry the guilt, Knowing the whole life is left to be built. Trying to find my way ever since. While the soul in me screams. This place makes me the kind of exhausted, The people around me, the feeling of betrayed. Nobody gives that much attention To point me in the right direction. But what if nothing wants me, Because I do not want me. I am both the poison and the antidote, That is what I do thought. To hate is an easy, lazy thing To love takes strength everyone has, But not all are willing to practice