I Am No Artist

Don't Feel Sorry For Me

I try to chart my mind on this great earth of mine, but I am an obvious failure. Why is it that I try to succeed, but in the end I either fail or I don't feel full of success? My mind has yet to consider anything an accomplishment. I don't understand.

I don't understand my life, I don't understand anything. My innermost has not been discovered, my potential not achieved, my life not meaningful. When I see my reflection, I don't see pride, honor, joy, or happiness. My smile is nothing, but an art of deception. I mask my innermost troubles, I mask my innermost resent, I disguise my innermost hatred, I hide my life.

My life is broken apart, it has been cracking for my entire my life, but the creases finally seperated becoming a mess. I have no trust in people, I have no "friends." Why do I avoid my life when talking with others?

I know the answer. I have been stabbed in the back by every person, I have ever met. They all leave, they all escape.