fuckatitle

I won't try to argue or develop a sense of virtue.
I won't show my colors if you don't like the hue.
If being me means I'm forced to lose you,
I'm sorry, but I refuse.

This is my last poem I will dedicate to pretending.
I can't waste another moment on building happy endings.
From memory to heart, to trouble comprehending.
I never knew love until the horizon started bending.

Maybe I'll never learn from our misunderstandings.
When falling for you forever is so demanding.
But until there is no one here left standing,
I will enjoy my fall, I don't care about the landing.

And I don't care about rhyming anymore either. I don't care for these delicate words that invoke safe visions and hopes. I don't care about the mitigating factors in arguments. I despise the fake. I will not be one. What the hell is going on in my head. I'm fine. I'm not fine. I'm fine. I'm not fine. I'm fine. I'm not fucking fine. I'm not okay. I'm not content with anything anymore than I am comfortable with conforming. I am slowly losing my patience with myself once again. I am bending my own rules. I am fighting my own nature. I am slowly tearing myself asunder. That means into separate pieces if you didn't know. See there I go. I am tired of losing it. Just be lost already. I can't go on dwelling in this confused state. Who the fuck am I anyway? I've lost sight of certain things about me that were once pride producing traits. Now, an empty shell and a "please leave me the fuck alone" smile has become the object in the mirror. And I say object because I barely feel like a person anymore. A person has substance and intent and control. I have none of these. I have excuses, rationalizations, minimizing techniques, and an unhealthy urge to prove myself worthy of redemption. I can't focus on my aspirations. I am preoccupied with telling myself to "breathe, it will all be okay someday." When? When will it be okay? I don't know and it's killing me. Day to day to day to fucking day. This isn't even me searching for sympathy. This is me having a revelation as I write. Holy hell man. What have I become? Am I just a bastard? A self defeating bastard? Or am I saving myself from this rose tinted snow globe? Am I tearing myself from the bonds of false hopes and unreasonable dreams? Or am I realizing my dream of being satisfied with the person I've become. Either fucking way, I can't make everyone happy. I know this and I will approach life in the manner of cautious caring mixed with a greedy heart. I will be there...if you are there for me. Enough fucking said for now. Let's see what the fuck tomorrow has in store for Mr. Malice.