TALKING TO MYSELF

Who am I to judge someone else, when I'm talking to myself. Who am I to gain perfect wealth, when I live by myself. Why do I fake my happiness, and smile through the pain. When It makes my insides cut through me more than a razor blade. I can't just change the way I think, so I can be ok. It's more to it than that. It's never going to change, not for me. Not even in my better days. I have times where I wish pain would just die away, so I wouldn't overthink. I'm to complicated, and I never sleep, I listen to my mind all night, where my nightmares began to creep. The past arises, making me feel like a lost sheep. I roam through valleys and nightmares to try, and find my daycare. I don't know which side is right or wrong anymore, it feels like the same mirror. Loneliness is a sickness, I don't know why people who have someone by them, take them for granted. Rather if it's your family or lover. At least they're standing with you. The only thing I have is my mind, and my pen and pencil. You don't know how much I pray to have someone to relate to. I try my hardest to be a example of hard working. Now I have people who are inspired by me, which makes me feel weird. I've never been the attention to anyone. I've always been that guy in the background. Now people are coming to me, asking for advice of how to write a book now. It's crazy where life takes you, when you're in your darkest moments. I never thought I would ever see the day I could ever approach this. It's funny, because now I'm chasing darkness. The more I chase it, the less I'm afraid. I'll always fight the devil, so that he won't win, he knows he can't win against me. Because I am the definition of vengeance.