I sit here, drowning in self hate and the blank hell of my primitive consciousness, it seems too late. I can see only the filth of my life. Reality is what I make it. Can I ever honestly accept how I rationalize my life?

Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
I sit here, drowning in self hate and the blank hell of my primitive consciousness, it seems too late. I can see only the filth of my life. Reality is what I make it. Can I ever honestly accept how I rationalize my life?