Havoc sometimes feels much contrived
Yet it\'s not chaos of what I\'ve survived
I\'m internally depraved
The labels do not seep through me, but are engraved
I can look at my existence as a malicious mistake
My tears turn to blood, but not coordinated enough to form a lake
If the love around me isn\'t real, I know my being is a mistake
I can\'t be truly corrupt
I do have morals, but they can turn baleful
I\'m still finding myself like them around me
I want to achieve, but I\'m torn, for I am unsure if alive or dead is what I want to be.