Self Incrimination

Self Incrimination
Is it wrong to ask and beg for
the very thing I fight against, or
is it just a bit more scary
that the part of me I’d bury
is the one that is contrary
to very death in which I seek?

Is it just a bit more likely
that part of me is out to spite me
for the good which I bestow
so readily on friend or foe,
always hoping they will grow
past the very death in which I seek?

Shouldn’t life be a bit simpler
than this hell in which I whimper,
where I hope I’ll never have to live,
even though I always try to give
other people that very life I hid,
for it is only death I seek?

What on earth could be much worse
than having to live with this curse
in which I’ve fallen victim to?
For death itself would be more true
than the wasted life I drew,
and now it is only death I seek.

What could be the rhyme or reason
of my own internal treason?
Forcing my own hand against me
all while I force man to be free,
yet it seems I hate to feel glee
for it is only death that I seek.

And these things I cannot settle
for I have no nerve or mettle.
Yet all along my voice is clearing,
faster now that I am hearing
the voice of reason without fearing
that death was never what I’d seek.

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