No one will ever understand this part of me,
I’m not even sure that I do.
It’s something deep within my mind,
Like a black seed—planted and forever grown.
These ideas, hateful and horrid
They manifest my soul.
I know that I cannot be fixed,
but it is clear to me that I am broken.
There’s pieces left for salvage
but something is missing within that puzzle,
Though I’m not quite sure what it is.
They say you can never truly love,
Not until you have learned to love yourself— I do.
I tell myself I do, I hate to think otherwise.
Why not? Why not love myself?
But that question has already been answered.
I do not hate myself, in fact I think I’m okay.
Character Is not the flaw at hand.
I do not have a problem,
On the surface that is what I believe.
I do not hate myself,
On the surface that is what I believe.
Deep down I’m not sure what I believe,
I’m only sure of what I know.
I am tainted— that I know.