Story Collector.

Nothing’s changed,
You’re still the same.
You aren’t worth much,
Without my stories.

I’d let you keep my stories,
If I meant more than them to you.

But it’s probably me,
I put you above my stories,
I put you above me.

Insecurity.

You return again and again,
You torture me every time,
You make me realise life,
How I’ll be inactive in death.
You let me know I’m living,
You’re my insecurity.

You force me to realise so much,
I let it go into death,
Kill myself slowly every day,
But realise I’m still alive,
And I look forward to dying.
You’re why I hate life,
You’re why I love life,
You’re why I’m alive.
You’re my insecurity.

I look for what you’re not,
I’ll, maybe, find what I’m not.
And I, still, will live.
I can only be insecure while I’m alive.
That’s what I need you to help me with,
Because that’s how I help myself.

Robotic Existence

I’m like a machine,
My life’s decided.
Everybody uses me.
They oil me every day.

I have a memory,
And I feed it every day.
No intelligence,
I can do nothing new.

I won’t believe you,
If I’m the first one you preach.
My idea of a revolution,
Is to suppress another one.

I’m a part of the system,
I insult it anyway.
It a convenient way,
To cry about my helplessness.

No emotions of my own,
I go by convention.
All my limited feelings,
Are because everyone has them.

I’m insecure if you’re strange.
I’m insecure if you question me.
I’m insecure with change.
My life is supposed to be risk free.

It's you or the world

They say the world appears better,
When the mind is joyous.

So when we met today,
With each passing moment,
Either your beauty grew,
Or the world ameliorated.
But we shall never know,
Because even if it’s the latter,
I probably didn’t notice …