Forgiving Myself is Hard

I’m the patron saint and the heir of perfectionism
One mistake and I collapse
Sorrow drowns me with more gallons than an ocean
I can’t lie about my anxiety
Everything needed to stand on a solid rock
While I mistaken that for well-packed sand

I wish I was perfect
No one would criticize me
I wouldn’t need to forgive myself even when others forgive me
Because that would be unnecessary

I hate that I make mistakes

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Failure Lingers

Cue that one Terminal song today
That reminder of my high school years reappeared
Disappointment and internalized frustration
Beat me to the punch once again
Despite consoling conversations, it’s been arduous letting go
At least I own up to my shortcomings
Maturity can only go so far
I long for a second chance and to prove my critics wrong
To laugh in their face and to tell them four biting words
“I told you so”
or
“I really did improve”

Do I Offend You?

Controversial opinions have been hidden from others
Uncomfortable truths form my core
I was once too cowardly to speak with sharp verity

Slowly, that’s beginning to change

This was my way of fighting back
Lancing devils with the right words
All they could do is try to discredit me
Despite being right

Oh, how I relish in shaming those who are wrong
I was just good at hiding it

The more I learn, the more I’m compelled to teach
Knowing when to pick my battles to quell those
Who want to see me as incorrect

Are you offended by my words?
Or are you offended by reality?

Allured by Violence (Altar of Gore)

Explosions, dismembering, beheading
All flashy and sensationalized
Cannibalism is extolled with a titanic congregation
Because it’s committed by the arbitrary good guys to be the hunters
To attack whatever prey is declared to be evil

Blood flows like rivers
At the sound of epic applause
Body counts become mathematics
By those regardless of royal or common stock

The arousal of wars, battles, scuffles, and everything in between
Is a symphony played worldwide
Maybe it’s like what Mariemaia said with history being an endless waltz
Yet the beat of peace is skipped or diminished
As millions suffer while other millions are orgiastic as the others get eliminated

Self-defense by the persecuted is villainous in the eyes of many.
There is a permanent underclass already declared by those with melanin
These targets are snuffed with impunity
As the congregation moans for more gore

Deception is an indirect form of violence
While there are no guns, fists, or bombs
There is cerebral assault to the minds of those subjugated
A perpetual scapegoat and prescribed lies are concocted
To keep the bloated pantheon appeased

The deities in the industrial machinated complex
Become hallowed by boots and bullets
Keeping the masses craving for more
As bodies drop
They thank the pantheon unseen
As those corpses didn’t look like their own
While those who resemble them
Project their internalized self-hatred
To be like the select

They Dreamed of Devastation and Deceit (Circle of Lies)

They claimed that continent was so dark
Not only because of the melanin of their majority
They’ll protect the native creatures
Yet laughing at the deceased bodies and mistreatment
Arousing those who inflict the suffering on millions even before that cursed scramble

They project a utopia of either animals only or having those who look like them walk around or live there
Empire and golden states of minds dictate this false narrative
Assuming they’re not projecting and magnifying poverty, corruption, or war-torn areas
How ironic. Their people and certain others have been moving in

Cobalt, tin, oil, copper
Among numerous others are exploited
An unfair trade to make such an understatement of the decade.

They purposefully ignore smart apartments, luxury hotels, and even locales safer than (supposedly) more “civilized” nations.
Funny how they call themselves nations while others are called tribes
The artifice and constructs of foreign tongues beg to warp minds

A continent where genocides have been afflicted on them where their perpetrators walked off without being behind bars could only be ignored for so long
How tragic is it when all that’s being mailed back are whips, severed skulls from the natives, or maybe artwork when it’s not an empty and insincere apology

So many deluge themselves in the circle of lies to feel euphoric
As they don’t want those with melanin to exist (whether they admit it or not)
They want to see a continent full of strangers like them and only those who look like them
Whatever god they believe in or not, all of them should pray every day that those living there or scattered don’t think like them.

These history books have been silent about these matters. Who ever thought that autodidact endeavors would become useful for unlocking truth when some desire it regardless of the learner’s pigmentation?

While there are issues that can’t be ignored, there is also solace that cameras, books, or online channels don’t dare to show.