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Poem

She portrays me to be selfish
but I think she's just helpless
and I feel so foolish 
for letting her make me feel so selfless
and this insanity will consist until I dismiss and resist
giving into this repetitive mess
And as I proceed 
indeed I feel naive
to know I would repeat this same routine
from sixteen to eighteen
but it's such a relief 
to be able to release 
this disease
that was in my skin
and made me weak at my knees
and I'm pretty sure anyone in their right mind would agree
So now when she tells our story
she forgets to say
all the things she ever did 
to make me behave this way
and as she lies awake
shattered by the idea of what we became 
what she couldn't contain 
yet she's real quick to complain
I can't even begin to explain
why it was so hard to escape
why I always remained
I believed I was addicted to her
like a coke head is addicted to cocaine
Discouraged by the possible pain
but I've learned 
pain is the consequence of
happiness
it took longer than it should have to realize 
I can't be having this 
consistent irrational madness
she's still convinced I planned this
just because I revolted
and flipped the axis on our atlas
dropping acid
just to paint a clearer picture on the canvas

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