The Damning Of My Poet Soul

177

Fuck me and my every last bad habit,
Can not kick one for the life of me,
And yet I know I take my life from me,
And it's just to forget the current moment's pain,
Could never ever be the same,
As I had just moments ago,
And there is no reason to feel this pain,
That seeps deep into my everyday Life,
Reminding me that,
Even though all my dues are paid,
That ones who got my money still remember my name,
And never again do they view me the same.
Another joint to the brain,
To try and forget about the scars,
That now do not act as armor to your touch,
Gentle as it is,
It's quite a painful thing,
And I can not quite explain,
Be patient I'm begging you please,
Because just the very thought of being in love breaks my heart,
And I am not quite comfortable with that pain,
But I just keep tearing myself up,
At the fact, I could be,
How could this ever be?
Can you see that I am the one that originally saved my skin,
From all the harm I placed it in,
And nursed the flesh back to health,
But everything that's left is a mottled mess of the sickly unhealed color under the recovered skin,
I never did get let myself get a chance to confess in anyone,
Painful things that still haunt me,
Even though I don't remember a thing.
It doesn't matter though,
Because I don't like to cry,
And I'd really rather confess in person,
The reasons I can not  help but want to toss this away,
And it ain't got a thing to do to you,
But with something that happened ages ago.
Go ahead hit me,
Anything you say is better than what I got...
Anything you ever say about me is better than the things I have said,
And that is what scares me the most,
Because I have not known one love outside out of the dark,
And I just hope I don't talk too much,
That not everything I say sounds like I'm full of doubt,
And yes it is true,
But not once have you ever appeared to even lead me astray from what I'm doing,
The only difference now is I do not understand how such a thing is possible.
The way you do not take any more than what I hand you,
And I still find myself asking myself why,
It is you don't.
I have grown up knowing you take all the love you can get, 
I still don't get it,
Addicted to it like medicine,
But then again if it were an addiction,
Why is it that I would forever wait,
Isn't it odd I have this much patience,
For such a thing when I am falling for you. I'm falling for the times I'll be with you,
And that's why I can not help doubting,
Whatever happened to turning out the light inside my head.
But then again wanting something real and doubting you may have run into it,
Is a whole lot better than when the lights were out inside my head,
It's men left to think in their beds.
And I can't understand one bit of it,
Because I could never interpret a thing that I scribble down,
Even if it were mere moments ago,
And I don't really care if that makes me so odd.
But how can I explain a pain I now no longer feel about the same,
If I revisit it, it changes its view entirely new.
Don't you dare ask me what I mean because I cannot tell you if its the meaning with which, I wrote it, or the meaning now,
Because the two are very much not the same,
And that is why I always wish to hear how many other translations are out there,
So that way I can remember this last bit recovery.