2AM Poetry

Maybe

I'd like to think that society would forgive me, but honestly I'm just a catastrophe, and I'm filled with blasphemy. The only thing you care about in the dark is your vanity, and now everything is gone, including my sanity. While I sit and care about my catharsis, you are an arson to my thoughts, setting them wildly ablaze, and I can never seem to leave this daze. You made those voices make choices, and now that I'm dead I don't remember anything you've ever said.