Is it just merely a light that once dazzled now that fades

Or is the beauty that once was depicted in original portraits

That resides in your house of empty rooms, now vacant of ever feeling

The subtle despair of a memory that parades

Throughout your unblemished and unfulfilled and uptight straight

Mind. No I don’t mind! You carry on stealing

And hammering in those nails of self-doubt and interest bearing,

Ever increasing moments of self-loathing.

You can’t hate me anymore than I do

And yet even in the darkness I know it’s true and I find myself caring