Self Titled Play

I don’t know what I’m doing here,
I want to cry but I have no reason,
I want to hurt but I have no wounds,
I want to show you some deep and emotional scar,
There’s nothing to show,
I am what I am,
A heartless decaying man,
Emotionless to real feeling,
An everlasting actor in my self-titled play,
The backgrounds,
The supporting roles,
The story,
The lie,
Always different,
But in the end,
I’m always the one who’s hurt,
From hit by a car to been in prison,
Emotional or Physical,
The pain is always there to bare down on me,
And a breakdown show’s my “true” self,
But what if that truth were a lie?

I’m a Vile and Hurtful Being,
Harmful to others and toxic to your life,
I have nothing to say so I make it up,
And what I make up becomes my new story,
Of Pain, Misery, Breakdowns,
But never happiness,
Happiness is a rarity in my world,
My world of sympathy,
My world of make believe,
To me it’s what I am,
But what I am is sorry,
I’m sorry I will hurt you,
And I’m sorry you’ll think it’s you.

My own Sick and twisted Movie,
With endless sequels and stories,
But If I’m not the lead,
Beware for your heart,
For I will steal it and break it,
Petty and self-obsessed,
Weak and self-loathing,
I am forever destined to be alone,
Don’t let yourself get dragged in,
Survival is your only hope,
Leave me,
Run away,
Don’t let me hurt you.