Without others to tell me who I am
The Saddest Truth
The saddest truth of all is not to know. To not know how far you’ve gone, how many mistakes you’re making right now with thinking what you’re thinking, being lost. My insides are a starless sky. To know you’re wrong, to know you’re gone off the way and not know how to find it. To live under the weight of self shame that you cannot lift. Goodnight and goodbye.
I will catch the wind in my fingers and drink the ashes of forest fires if it makes me feel alive. I’ve no dreams but the ones I’ve lost in Rimbaud and Baudelaire. When my mind still thinks I’m asleep and people watch as I madly mutter delusional lies, I don’t know whether wishing to die is real or imagination.
Something hurts and yet I’m numb. No more. No more can I drown in an excuse of madness to satisfy my self-doubt. It’s time to raise my eyes out of the gutter of life and see, but I’ve lost my way somewhere in the clouds. Don’t help me.
When I give myself up I will be nothing. I only wish that I was more sure that I am something right now.
For freedom is all illusion-
We are bound to our restraint.
Speak of meaning, create confusion-
There never was a truer way.
—Hard Boiled Wonderland
Until it’s light.
Look at these hands-
They’ve hurt their own body.
Take a look at these scars
Like you’ve never seen me.
Forget my name,
Don’t take me home tonight-
It carries too much pain.
Let me stay until it’s light.
Feel the pain, it’s right-
I know I’m full, complete,
Fighting just to fight
And no one to stand by me.
How can you love me for me,
When even I don’t know myself,
But the day that I will,
I might want someone else?
Look at these hands-
They’ve never caressed in love.
Take a look at these scars
And know-it still isn’t enough.
And so I’ll bleed
Until it’s light.
Fight and search and scream
Tomorrow for tonight,
Until it’s light,
Until it’s light.
All the destiny could never cure me
It is by suffering that human beings become angels of hell
And no revenge could ever set me free
Disguised in glass masks of corruptions spell
Bleeding in my filthy head
Life seems so long ago, but I remember
—I remember
People need to be disturbed. They need to be hit to feel something raw, because otherwise they shall drown in the retarding anesthetic of comfort of both mind and body, the repulsive ignorance that is bliss. They dare not and what’s worse- care not to think. Some can’t…. I envy them.
—Mangled
