Sometimes I hate

the way I am inside,

the way I think, 

and the way I lie.

Sometimes, the people

who trust me, even they

are deceived when my tongue

starts to flail, to flay.

Sometimes, although I don't believe it,

I plead with the murmurs in my mind,

the ones that whine, and persuade,

the ones that make me mean it.

When I mean it, 

it hurts you,

whoever you are,

the target of my aggression,

Though it varies,

day to day,

time to time,

in the pit of my mind.

Sometimes I hurt them,

the ones who care, 

the ones who love me.

I know it's not fair.

The people, those who punish,

think it's not me who decides,

think it's a monster, somewhere inside,

but I know, I choose what I do.

Sometimes, at night, 

looking back, 

I think to myself, 

man, if I could backtrack,

think of the things that could change,

all the punishment I could save

myself from, but never yet, 

have I been so brave.

Author's Note:  I am actually writing this in a relatively bright corner.  I decided to write it after a minor incident.  I was thinking about some of the major ones, and I guess I wanted to write something about those.  So I did.