This is the story my life has written
Disappointment; I have always been
A perfect model of disgrace and all that deserves no praise.
Never found deserving of second chances and glory, for I am never worth.
The worst error being tirelessly trying to make ample a situation- find the upside to demise.
Even if sometimes wrong in the tracks I take.
I can only justify it by correcting the damage that already is; after all I can’t rewrite history.
But now these demons have crossed the line, a sacrifice of self that’s only resulted in loathing and regret, In the name of something greater sought.
Is this really how ugly the truth is, why the encouragement to live truth then if all it does is bear pain and confusion?
Why is it that the worst regrettable acts are the ones that dictate the life over beauty and contentment?
Inspiring such writing of self pity and self loathing, is this to say I make up for the love I don’t have for myself by expecting it to be filled by love from another?
If that’s the case how come I am able to fully love another, regardless of flaw and short fall if I do not have the same kind of love for myself, is that even possible?
And how come others can’t forgive me for acts I've already forgiven myself for? Conditional huh?
This is what one gets for trying to live life by putting others before one’s self.
Then again if it’s the other way around, it’s qualified as vanity...wow!!!
Is there ever a right strike of balance? Can right ever be done without sacrifice?
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