Some days i am angry, actually most of the time im angry.
I sprout out rude snarky remarks, so people can have a reason to hate me.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms, hoping that someone can give me a reason to be filled with annoyance.
I hand out ***** looks as if they're candy.
I lash out on friends and family.
I tell people’s secrets so they have a reason to leave me.
I break people, and I break things.
The violent anger in me never ends. Anger is sadness, and sadness is anger, misery is despise,and despise becomes misery,

But the anger is all just a charade.
The anger cloaks the victim in me by pushing people away.
The victim in me cries lakes of tears
The victim in me stays in bed all day, and stares at the ceiling
The victim in me craves the feeling of being held
The victim in me fantasizes of blades, knives and needles
The victim in me cannot be happy for other people's successes,
The victim in me craves the sweet comfort of feeling loved by another person that it almost hurts.
The victim in me yearns for the love that other people receive.

Sometimes the victim and the anger like to play a game. The game consists of the seeing who can botch my brain up the most.
The battles in my mind goes on and on, as i lose friends, one by one.
The anger tells me to push people away while the victim is telling me to accept the love a random girl gives me because that might be the only love you can get
The battle in my mind has now become a war that I cannot win.
The anger in me cage's my heart slowing down my breathing, making it impossible to honestly love someone.
The victim in me has told me to be sad, so people will care, for the victim urges me to over share my thoughts to anyone that is willing to listen.
  
The anger, tells people off, the anger hurts people, the anger ruins lives.

But shrouded by anger, is the victim, the victim who just wants to feel the love that other people are given.
The victim in me looks at the word love as if it's a magical word that could possibly fix anyone.
The victim in me believes in fairy tales. True love, a princess and happiness.
But the victim in me doesn’t know how to love, nor does the anger. Neither know how to love properly, but maybe just maybe they don’t have to love, maybe I can be the one who learns to love.

You are a victim.
A victim of your vices
giving into everything that entices.
That leaves your heart
colder than ice is.
Your actions are the worst,
but I can't blame you.
You are just a victim.
A victim of the thirst.

Your flesh is weak
but you know that.
You can't help yourself
So you don't fall back.
No attention at home
Makes you feel all alone
and your soul is crying
for some contact.
So you scroll through
all of your contacts.
Wondering who just might
call you back
As your mind paces
back and forward.
The thirst begins
to call on you
and that is when
you follow through.

You have fallen.
You have fallen.
You have fallen victim.
Victim to the thirst
and with all of your worth
you have become
the worst.

The thirst of lust.
The thirst of lust
and the sin of vanity
has influenced
Your latest calamity.
That will become the cancer
that will eat away
at your very sanity.
Until all you have left
Is the thought
of your conformity
to the community
of the heartless.
Body, mind, soul,
Bound by your effects causes.

You are a victim.
A victim of your vices
giving into everything that entices.
That leaves your heart
colder than ice is.
Your actions are the worst,
but I can't blame you.
You are just a victim.
A victim of the thirst.
and with all of your worth
you have become the worst.

I’ve never become low on my graveside attendance,
Victim , victim they call me, the moments I’ve been facing are abysmal,
Your voice, mellifluous, makes my world lucid, just like a blissful carnival
You fade away, so far away, in the shades of grey,
These black petals, merely dead, have witnessed a fray

Victim, an element of my soul, enshrouded in a stack of mud, in a desolated place,
My roots are too feeble to read that case
A fragmented mind, my hampered cognition, pictures you in the pleasing attires,
All I know are just my futile desires

Victim, they call me, when I visit your house, and grab those dispersed roses
A few letters garnished, just to seize my reaction,
Almighty has deceived me with his bitter, yet innocent abduction
Your warm breath, ventures me, like a spellbound,
Snivels, ****** tears, soaked up in the soil, I tend to hound

Victim, I’m a victim of my encapsulated love,
A victim of irrational fears, fallible against my taken vows

Routines are the mind's way of playing tricks on you.
And when you reach a point of breaking, a point of severe uncontrollable emotional damage,
The damage, of course, inflicted upon you by yourself,
Will suffocate you and in the process, proceed to shove you against a wall without any last words.
And in that moment, you feel like crying,
But you know, that there is no point in crying anymore.
There is no point in pondering, no point in asking, "why?"
You will find that you, yourself are nothing but a mere fraction of the mammalia kingdom,
With nothing but processed emotions, fake attitudes, controversial peers, and material objects that mean absolutely nothing to the outside observer.
You are nothing but a stupid monkey with "designer" fashion,
Nothing but a human with this bizarre concept of love that masks the lust you feel deep in the night as you crave someone's arms around your broken body.
You are nothing but a victim to life and all of life's offerings.
I am nothing.
I am minuscule.
I am a victim to society,
A victim to pop culture,
A victim to perfection,
A victim to succeed,
A victim to wealth and prosperity,
A victim to living in its own,
But most importantly, I am a victim to my own mind.
And that, I feel, is the single most cruel thing that could possibly happen to myself.
There is no point in success without a driving force pushing you to succeed,
And if I were granted success with no specific driving force then why should I be granted it?
If I worked for hours just scraping the surface of some magical discovery only to be brought down with negative feedback,
Why do I fail?
Why do I fail constantly?
Why do I tell myself that I am smart when I do nothing to prove so?
I am nothing but a victim to my own mind,
And the only escape is to die.
I am nothing.

The innocence of someone who
still hasn't touched a drop.
Of someone who won't take a drag
or blow out clouds of useless crops.

They all start out the very same,
Say they won't touch a single thing
but they all end up the same as well,
all merely desensitizing.

Goodbye, goodbye my view of you.
Au revoir my idea of
My perception of that soul of yours.

Oh victim, victim
who are you?

VICTIM
a word that I've known to well.
Some may say it's a role that ppl play
But to ppl like me, it's a mindset...
A character that develops in the dark.

Far too long I accepted that I always been a victim.
Victim of racial stereotypes.
Victim of being average.
Victim of my own fears.

But aye that **** gets tiring after a while. Playing the victim gets me no where.
So let me set the record straight.
Ppl will hear my voice
Feel my words
No longer will I surcome to others wishes that will keep me at bay.
I do things for myself and the ones who ride with me.
So u may not fear me or like me, but you will respect a person that had enough!

A victim of daydreaming

May 2, 2015 at 1:02pm

I live in a world full of madness

I live in a world full of lies

A speech once worked

The crowd into a frenzy

A leader once won a peoples favor

While appealing to their emotions

I live in a world full of madness

I live in a world full of lies

I live in a world full of emotional speech and demagogy

Sometimes I walk in circles while doubting

The world of anarchy around me

Am I intellectualising to much

While feeling too little?

As an adult one learns to cope

When feelings have aroused as secrets

I am the victim of daydreaming

Yet I have nothing and everything

Am I intellectualising to much

While feeling too little?

Anarchy dwells around me

In a slow motion state of rhythm

I'm a victim of daydreaming

Yet I have nothing and everything

As I fade away into the rhythm of life

I'm a victim of daydreaming

And from actions and words

To never understand what they're about