true as it may seem
i will always be the imperfect person i used to be
and my weakness becomes evident everyday
i think my imperfection seems to be of perfect misfortune
its imminence makes me think
that i'm not worthy of the happiness some have already attained in this world
i'm just saddened
of the fact that whatever i do to please you,
i will always be wrong,
i will always find your critique suffocating,
i guess i have never done something right for you, or anyone
let me include myself
i must be villainous enough
and worse, pitiful
i don't have the mask I used to carry with me all day long
to hide my sentiments 'cause i know sharing it would lead me nowhere,
i wish to aggressively tell someone how "damn you!" you are
i wish to aggressively tell someone how "damn you!" you are
or maybe "i love you" , this is true
i'm tired of letting silence pass me by
so from now on,
i'll make myself passible
of all the hurt and love
i miss myself,
the firm, jolly one.
i miss myself,
the firm, jolly one.
The healing struggles,
and still retreats back
i'm dismantled,
piecemeal in this realm of stuffed reality,
scrunched in fist.
[Paper Bug]
[Paper Bug]
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