''You should try to love yourself more.''
Those words reverberate inside of me
As I rearange my thoughts and assort them
But spend much time
Discarding the pile
That doesn't belong to any category.
It's an excess
And wants to force its way in.
It likes a mess
When everything is out of order.
But what is it that is likely to pervert
The seemingly spotless mind?
Only that which possesses the potential
Can be deformed.
Illusion is the word.
Or rather, hallucination.
When it's allowed to settle in
As an equal category
It is perceived to be...