My head is a constant
paradox to many.
If only they could see what’s inside.
I’m frightened of my own thoughts;
it’s as if it was Satan’s backyard.
It’s always jumbled up and fogged
as every thought had its own poison.
Sometimes it feels like my thoughts would kill me;
terminate and end me so easily.
It feels like I’m a caged beast
raging to be let out in the open.
Yet it is the open that I’m afraid of
it is the unknown that shackles me.
I see light in others so frequently
and I envy them; I’m attracted to them.
Yet when I go near, to touch, to see
I engulf them instead.
It’s as if I’m a plague
that kills despite my best intentions.
Maybe that’s why this feels like hell
for I bring destruction wherever I go.
It’s not as if I mind this coldness.
The dark can’t harm me more than it has.
Yet I can’t help but be attracted to the light
when it holds so much of warmth.