Getting mad again

Am I really so bland that my past is all I have

When I try to move past it

I can't think of anything to fill the pages with

Trauma fused with art has become a ball and chain

Don't know what I am

And I can't get out anything I really need to say

Fuck that

Refuse to credit

You for my creations

Angry

My inspiration

Comes from my deepest hatred

Kill it

I've got to kill it

The bug inside my brain

Gone

I want it gone

I want it gone

Fuck that

Trauma isn't all that made that

Safety isn't what went wrong it's the thought that I can't

Create art without an open wound

And the feeling that's the ticket I've now sold

But fuck all that

I can't

Be held

To a standard no-one expects

But still now

I'm here

What am I doing

I'm drowning in my thoughts but I can't get them out

I'm dying to stop thinking about all my faults

But that's the only way I know how