Self Less Poem by Michael Stevens

I feel...my blood rising,
a display of my own dislike.
a red ocean, full of unbearable self despising.
I hate myself more and ever more
with every step i take

what is my mission, my goal, and who is it for
Feeling like a clod stumbling around in the dark
without purpose to guide, without a reason.
bound by the chains of my own mortality,
will i ever find the source of this personal treason.

To break free would be to clear my head, set free my mind
but would seem too much for me to bear.
truths are meant for monks and priests
not for the normal of man to hear.
and i move into a corner in cowardice,
beaten into submission by my fear remembering





to be continued...?