the love to give

maybe I am not who I thought I am

what if I’m just a fiend desperate for thrill

a predator who strikes just to see the kill

struggle for air in the waning moments

what if I’m no better than my father

itching to feel something

child abuse stripped me of nerves

so I don’t feel anything anymore

or anyone

unless I’m inside them

the burn is kept reduced to a hint

no promise

last night, I felt the agony of loss again

my left eye twitches in disbelief

deceived by my desire to be normal

I’m left alone, per the usual

see, I sometimes get my way, in the way

I most deserve

I don’t believe in miracles, just bad people

will always find someone to love

and I will always be left in the pen

hating all the love I have inside to give

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