Knowing what is Wrong.

I wake up in pain every morning,

the alarm screaming in my ear like an undisciplined child

half the time I’m fighting back the tears

that love to caress these eyes

like the evening before, when I was sad

thinking about the guilt of my youth, all mistakes made

howling at me as if I’m rolling in my own filth

take me back, this can’t be the real me

why did I do this, not do that

took up all these bad habits, am I becoming mad?

Most of the time I start to believe it when,

Just a few years before, I recovered from a bad addiction

Needing something, just anyone to see

Too many did indeed, and here I am

Every day, all day

Feeding this mind, becoming more ashamed

Of the scars on my arms, taunting every belief

I used to have, this can’t be what life is about

I know it’s dumb to say, but churches to me

Are just a lath, carving fear into the brains

Of innocent minds, train wrecks ready to happen

It’s exhausting, coming home

Laying down, knowing I put on an act

Talking to people, smiling at strangers

Lying to myself and others,

That I am fine, but it’s no secret to me,

That this mind is far from sleeping.

I go to bed every night. Suffering.

And yet, it pleases me.