My own enemy...

Mystified, stymied, confused and wearied. The white flag is in my hand by my side, how badly I want it to wave... if not for them.

Gifted with a curse, cursed with a gift, how easy it is to lose sight, to drift, to just let go in a moment of insanity, how easy...

Misunderstood, looked at as a monster, I intimidate I suppose.

Embraced by a few and that is sad, that hurts.

Can't you see the longing to be a part, behind the walls I've built around my heart, mortared in with the fear of rejection?

I suppose the weirdo I will be, as they constantly say to me, I'll retreat to my cave once again... I am my own worst enemy,

I am my own worst enemy...

Some people...

“Some people bring joy wherever they go, and some people bring joy whenever they go.”


― Mark Twain