I Cannot Think of a Title Right Now. But I am Sorry.

Why is pain beautiful,

But happiness is cringe-worthy.

Why do I feel this pain,

But I don't feel beautiful.

Cursed to repeat history.

And hurt the ones I love;

Hurt the boy I think I love.

But I think that done with.

He should be done with me,

Else he’s a fool.

Because he was there when I

Was hurling my guts and starting to drool,

Crying in my own pain. self-inflicted pain.

To pissed to spell my own wretched name.

And he was there the morning after.

I saw the look on his face and knew.

When he told me what I had achieved

What he said was easy to believe.

Because it sounds like the sort of shit I would pull,

On the boy, I think I love.