How I Became An Optimist

Imagine yourself with nothing else
but your mind and your messed up self.
When you are all you have to rely on
how do you trust yourself?

How can anyone love me?
No one will ever know me.
Forever alone is a long time
to get lost in all your crimes.

Maybe if I hurt myself,
maybe if I cut myself
and watch myself drain myself
I can find myself.
She may be a bitch but karma
could make my life warmer.
Everyone bangs on about her style, it’s fashionably late,
but worth it. The wait
that might just kill you, especially if you
spend your time inflicting and self-conflicting
thinking about mimicking
while your hate is all consuming
and you become less controlling
in this downward spiral out of medicated sanity
where your madness has no transparency.

I only have a broken self,
that’s why I’m so lonely.

People give pain a bad rep
but sometimes that’s a natural step
into sobering your senses into addiction
because it understands you with perfect diction.
No one ever learns from what’s given
and happiness is something we have to earn.
Me and you will get there eventually, we have to,
we’re the ones who get it and choose to.

When hate becomes all you know
and all you trust and show,
that’s the time to find something,
some love, some life, some thing.
Everything that has happened up until now
that’s all yours, it’s for you to grow
into a better person than you could have ever hope to be
if you spent your whole life knowing happy.
Use your pain to understand
that sometimes it only takes a hand,
you might not be going backwards but sure as hell don’t forget it.
That’s what makes you you, and this world needs it.

How can anyone love me?
No one will ever know me.
It’s enough that I do,
and one day they will.


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