Self Sabotage

and revenge

in the midst of the confusion,

in loves last dying throes

was the source of the illusion,

and all the worldly woes

the heart ache and the mindfucks

the joys and jubilations

the jumping ins, all far to quick,

the unsure hesitations

the fuel and the fire,

both the love and the hate,

disgust and desire,

and all from one place.

but, all, i lay blaming,

within this melee,

of a life, naught but waning,

will the truth set me free?

for,

all the torments and the pain

all the feelings still contained

all thats driven me insane,

the source, my heart,

blessing, and bane.

if, without it, i could survive

still beating, i'd tear it from inside

and burn it, with the utmost glee,

and ruin it, as it did me.