I cut myself to just fool the Pain.
Sometimes I doubt if I’m Insane.
Thoughtless ranting, constant recanting of showers of Shame.
Twinning. Mirroring. No Id. No Ego. Just a fluttering flame.
So I turn, I turn again straight.
Run from my life of Hate.
Steering towards a path of security a bit too late:
Though this way is better than a Life Lived innate.
Frightful Changes of long lived actions.
I obsess on certain mistakes, living life in fractions.
My Life is a revolving door – A psyche fragile like plaster.
My Shame is my only Master:
I run toward my endless Disaster.