I don't mean to do what I do. Sometimes when I write, 
my heart just takes the lead and I follow the way as my pen glides across the page. 
Me- I write about pain because I've felt it before. 
Me- I tell people to forgive when I can't even forgive, myself. 
Me- I lead the way for others while, I- myself am lost. 

Lost in the scrambled, broken road of my past.  
The past is gone but yet I still feel it in my veins.
Rushing through my body like running water, 
you still control me. 

Years, Months, Days, Hours, Minutes, 
you still control me.
The pain from the past still haunts me and 
breaks me down until my eyes 
are flooded with disappointment and hurt. 
The pain from the past still 
controls me like a remote control, 
A remote control that takes over me and
plays with me like a puppet. I help people, 
I guide people to the light when 
I'm the one that needs the most help. 
Sadly, the unfortunate truth of me.. 
The unfortunate truth of me.. the "truth" is 
something makes my body tremble. 
The truth is my biggest nightmare yet, 
it is also what shall set me free. 
But instead of being free, I'm stuck. Stuk in my own head- my 
own imagination where I play with stuff how I want it ad 
I build up a beautiful masterpiece so that 
I can look at the perfect picture rather than looking at 
the real thing. I guess I'll be stuck for all eternity until 
I find my path of redemption and clarity. 


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