I am, what I am.

I am a narcissist
Inspired by myself
My thoughts are poetry
Too much and too dark to share

I am a masochist
I find pain in everything
And I'm obsessed with it
Even though I yearn to be loved
An oxymoron
Which is called
By the name I was birthed

I am a hypocrite
I live like I don't want to
And I don't say what I mean
Because

I am scared
Mainly of rejection really,
If I can't be good enough for myself
Then will I ever be enough?

I am desperate
Destructive
Desolate agony
Damaged

I am a mess
But I am strong
Most of the time
I might be a pushover
And maybe I don't have much self respect

But I do know that I'm a good person
Even if my reflection
Is a silhouette
There is beauty in darkness
So maybe what I am
Is a solar eclipse

And how powerful is the light
When that darkness passes?