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A soul inside ( weaker rhyming scheme but more feels poemish-story )

Never fit in,

Never understood,

What was going on,

Under the hood.


Maybe I did see it,

Maybe I did comprehend,

But what I gave out,

Wasn't the right answer.


Did I see too deeply,

And react to what was instead of what they desired I see,

Or am I just another foolish wise-head,

Filled with false histories?


I have been in rooms both full and empty,

yet every single time,

Always left them,

Feeling by myself


Or is that too a dream,

I do feel a hint of fond memories,

I think, it's difficult to tell now,

It's been a while since I have tried to remember.


They tried to fix me,

My anxious fearful self,

They tried to fix me,

With shame and guilt.


That's what still stings,

The cure was the poison,

Given out of love and care,

How do you expect me to trust another after that?


All the times I fell in love,

I said the wrong things,

Did the wrong things,

Was the wrong things.


I took too long,

Becoming more,

They had to leave,

because they still had lives that were going on.


I don't blame them for leaving,

Everybody has a life to live,

But I do love myself enough,

To admit that some of them were certainly buttholes.


For the longest time,

I thought I didn't belong,

Everywhere I went,

I attracted those who wanted to feel strong.


Strong by pushing another,

Someone who would submit,

and I was more than willing,

For the sake of acceptance.


There were others too,

Those who cared,

More than people tend to,

That's what I got,

Caretakers and bullies.


For the longest time,

I thought my soul was wrong,

Then as bad days became bad years,

I thought there was no soul at all.


I tried to piece myself together,

Kept myself separate,

This time not to hide within myself,

But to have time enough to repair.


They shouted for me to return,

Told me I was burdening them,

But I did not let up,

Because I knew in their loving hands,

I would never grow.

For how can you grow in hands,

That are forever righteous,

And everything that will ever go wrong,

Will have somebody to blame,

except themselves.


The love was real,

But so was the hurt.

To me the hurt was real,

and they will never see it.

Because even to show them,

Only means a vehement denial,

Only means I will hurt them more,

Without understanding.


I gave it all up,

In the hope of having something I could control,

Piece by piece, month by month,

Week by week,

day by day,

hour by hour,

Finally I put my mind back together.


Nobody will ever know my pain,

Because through it all I have been an expense,

I can't even blame them,

Because rationally I was dead weight, in their shoes I would have abandoned myself.


They were desperate,

To save me from myself,

So desperate to fix what was broken,

They broke it further.


First I lashed out,

Then I left,

Then I lashed out again,

Until that fire too was dead.


I picked up the pieces,

As best as I could,

Until bit by bit I learned to know myself,

Without another voice guiding or commanding me,

I realized, my soul was there.


I had been looking in all the wrong places,

In others and their bonds,

And now I wish I had found out before,

That the reason I couldn't find another soul like my own,

Was because my soul was in the shape of me and me alone.


I found the desire to be good,

Even in the absence of a guiding voice,

I found the desire to be more,

Even without anyone's command.

I found faith in my fellow man,

Because that's what I wanted to believe in.

I found a thousand little things.

All bits of me that remained when nobody else was there.

Both good and bad, but more good than I thought there would be.


So I tore my mind back from the edge,

From the fragments lost across time and space,

I found a lost half a mind,

And rebuilt it again.


Upgrades, That's what I thought,

that's what I chased,

and it delivered,

and I am a bit more everyday.


All the mistakes however,

Still at moments weigh on me,

For I know better,

We are all the terrible things we do,

and all the good too.


One does not cancel out the other,

But both live on,

Separate from each other,

All our deeds matter.


I have though sworn,

That I shall no matter what,

ever fall so low,

As to hate myself.


It is for the world to despise me if it doesn't approve,

It is for the world to love me if it does,

But no man with any sense ever ought to fall so low,

As to go about hating himself.


Even the regrets are forgotten,

Not out of malice, or lack of care,

but because the only way to move forward,

Is to outgrow old pain.


Does that make me a good man?

Do I deserve forgiveness or disdain?

I know not.

All I know is this.

I have a soul. I am a man, and as long as I live, every moment, I must move onward.

7
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Shut up cute twink, no one cares about your shitty poem about being anorexic.

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Wrong

:chad:

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