Never Ever.

Once a week a love poem.
Once a week just hate.
Once a week discomposing.
Just once is not my fate.

I am worth less than the rocks I step on.

I hate the thing that dwells
Deep within my skin.
I hate being alone with myself.
I reek of angst and sin.

Past tense pretentious.

Where is home
When nothing feels right
Where is hope
With souls dark as night

Green with envy.

Campfires and innocence
Or should I say lack thereof
Lying in my misery
I watch the stars above.

Isolation.

Stabbing out my eyes
And ripping out my hair.
I hate the taste of blood.
And the thought that no one cares.