Misanthropic Musings

I thrive on being a permanet paradox - mournfully content, painfully optimistic.
It keeps my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds.
Trust no one - you're alone, trust everyone and you end up in the mud.
The harsh wind stings the tears on my face.
The blood swelling on my skin was painted by your fist.
I must admit I do love provoking a reaction from your shallow minds.
You can tell from my broken skin that I don't think like you do.
I see the world's weight bear down on your thin shoulders.
As much as I try I cannot purge this.
The night is home to tears.
I lie still in the soapy water, calmly watching my wrists soak a pretty crimson colour.
Before I'm finished saying these words we will be made of bullets.
Metal means nothing to me when I look inside of your eyes.
Pitholes of lead.
Modelled from misanthrope clay.
The night will crawl in like starry spiders.
Mummy did you notice my cherry imbrued arms?

This one, I really like...seriously.

Really??! T'is not my best one I wouldn't say...

I would even, sorry. Don't know what I'm writing here!

No, its just..some of the lines...I can relate to. Not the whole thing lol, just some. Like the first few lines or so..I can. Its really well done.

Ahh, I don't even understand that poem myself..! Hehehe! Nah nah, jokes, I do, but y'know.