Hidden in between my dignity,
Guilty of half and half self-hatred and pity,
Weak after week afraid to be cheery,
Fueling my brain with a positive theory,
That I am richly the ruler of my happiness dearly,
Independent and strong not weary,
Your approval not needed clearly.
Pushing myself daily and yearly,
Yearning for respect fiercely,
Buckling down severely,
Being honest to myself sincerely,
I am many things not just merely,
Think I’ll give in and give up not nearly,
Saying I would, would be oh so insincerely.
Barely I resist the temptation grievously,
The paper avid to the ink anxiously,
How can I be loved if my beloved words hate me?
How can I trust when the truth itself is lying to me?
Feeble brains keep all time questionning why am I sage?
I've been stolen my childhood and my teenage,
What's leftover to feel an ounce of glee?
Expecting a knife wounding my life,
Where's my illuminated sight as all i see,
Is my unborn children buried next to my future wife,
Exposed in between my crisis,
Hidden in between my charm,
Figured out what pain is,
And still searching for euphoria's arms.