I don't love myself.

Part of me is engulfed with silenced sin.
And when I want to shed my heart, all I do is hide in my skin.
The pen won't release its ink, reflecting what I feel within.

Crush the feelings inside.
First thing on the to-do list.
Second thing I'm going to do is leave the investigators clueless.
Far too far long have I dealt with retrospect rudeness.

Magma from the volcano moving slowly down the lane.
Inhabiting the suburban streets, driving citizens insane.
Slow burning fire driving Americans to a scare.

Trigonometry states that all life is fake.
Now, I didn't think that was right so I went back again.
I checked my textbooks and even asked a friend.

The way you came in left a breeze through my hair.
Get my armored coat, I'm not used to the air.
Cuts in the faults of your pretentious rue.
I'm not used to listening to your kind of hue.

Boiling rages of fourteen hundred suns.
An uncontrollable ambivalence, a tranquil sort of hostile take over.
Churning, churning, uncharismatic.
Totally spewing.
Crazy, conscious flailing.

Underneath everything
You throw me into depression
Overcome severing
The throes of great digression.
The fuel to laugh, to live, to love.

Plight on my wings.
I'm sinking into the ground.
The end of this dragon is a pitiful sound.

It was a sight for bored eyes to see me falling through the sky.

Starshine, so bright, so vivid in my eyes.
From the screen showing lives, bearing no fine line.
There comes a bright light from right beside mine.
It shines forever, dying only when it's my time.

If only I was the center of me.
So I fell short; an approximate six feet from heaven.
And her eyes; like an idea to the most troubled student.