Maybe it’s a desire for the end of the surreal
A craving for something beyond
comprehension-to become real.
Maybe its a vindictive self abuse
A desire for a pain that speaks
To others and your crueller self
Maybe its a question of worthiness
Am I worthy to be worried
Only if its me too
Maybe it’s even worse
A desire for the attention to center on yourself
A narcissistic disease
Maybe that ‘s why the fire crawls
Into the heart and begs
That you ask for the end of your own
Destroy my property, Destroy my house
Only because its my real-est fear.
Just do it, So it doesn’t hurt so bad
When it’s over.
Flaming like the fire itself
This violent desire creeps inside the ribcage,
All to be done is beg God,
Please don’t listen to what I ask
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