By ANONYMOUS
Staff Writer
I’m such a bitter hag.
I’m yelling at a brick wall and getting upset because it’s not listening to me.
I’m such a pessimist.
All I’ve done is repel the people I should keep close.
I want to have what is long gone, with no chance of return.
Is it me?
Am I the problem?
It’s always been me and never others.
I fan my own flames, fueling the fire within.
I’m the one pouring the gasoline.
I make sure the fire rages at all hours of the day.
I scorch everything I touch.
I can’t seem to accept the constant change.
As soon as the wound starts to scab, it’s brutally pulled off.
Over and over.
Eventually leaving a nasty scar.