Am I Really the One to Blame?
By my younger self.
Down, Down I fall.
But no one hears my call,
My plead.
I'm stuck inside my own head.
Even when I go to bed.
I can't run away,
But I can't keep the monster at bay.
"Normal" people can't understand.
They won't even consider.
Why am I so bitter?
Why do I wish for solitude?
Even though it scares me.
Excuse me if I sound rude.
But you have to get the fuck away.
This insanity is here to stay.
It wants the air I deprive it of.
I have to drown it out.
It can't reach the above.
In my head it scratches at my skull.
I cry from the pain,
Cry until I feel dull.
For that moment I want it to stop.
Because the pain is almost not worth it.
But I know that if I let it out,
I won't come out on the other end.
I am two people it seems.
The kind and loving.
Then suddenly it deems,
That it's time to play.
And I become the anger driven monster.
Even though I never gave the okay.
My head pounds from the things I know,
And from the anger I won't let go.
But to keep everyone safe.
I lock it up,
In its cage.
Where it will age.
Until the day I no longer have that resentment.
But that day never seems to come,
Never a moment of contentment.
I'm getting used to the fact I'm insane.
But my question is,
Am I really the one to blame?
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