I've long asked the truth to set me free from the bonds that tied me down.
I'm still asking the truth to help me breathe in all this self-hate spreading around.
I'll pay in mental knots.
Somebody hear me out.
Memories to black to blot.
As I fail to figure out:
How hate can come from love or how pulling crosses pushed me down.
Truth. It's too hard to love me.
Truth. I let the world tell me what to do.
Truth. It's okay to judge me.
Truth. I wasn't born normal like all you.
But now, I can't keep searching for someone who might care. (Because I've been there.)
As of now, I can't keep crying for someone who's not listening. (Because people stand and stare.)
Instead, I'll whisper softly. Thinking about it, hardly, as the tired voice in my head keeps wandering. Wondering:
Has this truth been haunting you?
Has this truth gotten you too?
I wander, but where can I go if no one wants me to take off?
They say I'm mentally slow... Maybe alone I'll be safer. (Keep blending in.)
I'll whisper softly. Thinking about it, hardly, as the tired voice in my head keeps me wandering. Wondering:
Is misery better than living all alone?" Because I can't choose between loving never or remaining forever alone.
I accept. It's too hard to love me.
I accept. The truth doesn't always work for you.
It's okay to judge me... I already gave up fitting in with all you.