Sorrow

Sorrow on my tongue is a sly taste of meth, Resentment runs through my veins I'm like added preservatives to your favorite food Hard to read, unable to pronounce I'm emotionless, without care or meaning. Many say that they regret the day of there birth, I thought some were crazy, until I regretted my own Sorrow of my inner soul drives me crazy To avoid sudden hatred toward myself, is too just rid myself of ones own image. How does one do so without killing their own mind.