Problematic

This is a vent poem. Sometimes I feel like there’s two sides of me, one that deserves peace, one that knows suffering. Sometimes I feel like I’m a good person, other times I know I’m not.

I’d admit I have a problem
Hell, I’d admit I am the problem.
If anyone had the time to give a damn or two.

Instead of fueling my chaos,
Excusing my pain
Listening and trying
To deeply understand my game

Here I go trying to blame others again.

I chose the darkness
I stocked and sold my shine
And every god damn day
It got easier to cry

I chose the darkness,
I craved it’s sweet scent
I craved the pain and misery of every person I’d met.
I’d absorb it, examine it, use it to make my pieces easily fit.

And with that should come shame.
Here lay my shame.
Next to overpowering smugness that reeks up my days.
I feel shame, I do, but I bask in attention.
The greatest addiction no one ever dares mention.

For a kid like me, with so much “trauma” it leaks, it stinks, it smells up any life I try to create.

Sometimes they say things and I just tag along
I do it my whole life, nothing ever feels that wrong.

A piece of me, I don’t know where it’s from.
Yet surely I do.
The better pieces I drown out
I push them away
The paper white flickers I slash out of my day
I shovel dirt and hide the suns rays
The brightness inside me
Intrepid and crazed
Born from misery
Born from the greats

The greatest of nothing
The greatest of assholery
The greatest of ever giving a god damn f**k about yourself

Love me, love them, love everyone.
Where should all this love come from?

Lost in the night that should’ve been my home
I push and I push and nothing is wrong
I work and I work and I hear the bell drum
One more hour, one more new year
One more mistake loud enough to hear
One more rock bottom
One more revelation
One more year of mindless ablation

I’m screaming for help
What more can I do
When my body won’t move
My limbs paralyzed and exhausted
I said I’d give up
Maybe not up but in
I’d admit I have a problem
Id admit I was wrong here

Is anyone listening
Is anyone around left to hear
My chaotic tumbling
I have no idea what I am.

I feel everything and nothing
I feel incapable of repair
Then I feel hopeful that maybe all this is is despair.

Maybe recovery is near
Maybe I’m almost there
Maybe someday I’ll know who I am in here.

Someday the sun will rise and surely i’ll be different.
Someday I might feel a happy I’ve felt before, but then it stays.
Someday I might feel the happy of security.
But today, today I can’t tell if I’m the problem or if I was born to grieve.