A Poet’s Qualm

I’m so fucking pissed at the world that I’m in. I can’t have what I want. I can’t make amends. I can’t follow my heart. I am bound by my sins, and the further I push, the more I dig in. I literally want to blow out my brains—but that’s insane—so I lay here awake while I’m writhing in pain. When I call out for help my chest burns as I scream. “Oh, he’s just blowing off steam.” No, I am trying my best to not get in your face. I am trying to not make a mess of this place.

I want to destroy it. I want to break free. I want to hurt everyone who has ever hurt me. I want to erase their existence from this miserable place. I hate my life. I hate that I’m stuck. I hate that nobody else gives a fuck. I can’t do what I want. I can’t even breathe. I’m tired of hiding my heart in my sleeve. So, fuck, here you go! I think we’re all pieces of shit. I know I am—who else has the balls to admit it?