The Life in Rhymes of an Angsty Teenager

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Selfless Turned Selfish: A 3-Step Guide

The Descent from Heaven

I wish you would look like a slob so no one could possibly find you attractive at all.

I don't want anyone else to see what makes you so alluring to me: an order I know is too tall.

But the thought of you with another is one I wholeheartedly despise.

It has dragged me under and brought upon me a feeling I wish I could better disguise.

I don't think you'd recognize this spiteful side of me.

A fallen angel that once inspired the selflessness you tried to seek.

I obsessively grasp handfuls of dirty, plucked down; as I try to collect the scattered feathers of lost wings.

And with a wave of melancholy, I pick up the shattered, remnant pieces of a tarnished halo ring.

I never used to consider myself to be a person of great pride.

I've since found out that it is quite characteristic of me; a fact I'm more than willing to hide.

Knowing I encompass this capacity should be a confirmation to celebrate.

But if pride is stubborn and gets in the way, it becomes a flaw you wish to relegate.


Purgatory: Hell's Holding Cell

Sometimes I talk big, but don't have the shoe size or footprints to match.

Sometimes I speak too many words, or I do not say enough to fill the silence and distract.

There's no in between: I'm either all out or held back.

Sometimes I have no filter, or I dole out a hateful wrath.

But I don't mean to be contradicting; where this bitterness comes from, I don't understand.

I think it stems from somewhere deep inside - be it the pit of my stomach hungry to bite a feeding hand?

Or maybe I'm experiencing a malfunction of the mind, channeling the focus of my emotions?

A brain hell-bent on forcing me into isolation; intent on making me devoid, humanoid, atrocious.

Purgatory is a place meant for reflection, of discovering where you went wrong.

But by the time that realization hits you, all hope of salvation is too far gone.

I guess playing the role of Devil's advocate is a risk you choose to take.

And soon you'll experience Dante's Inferno, at the mercy of Darkness' stake.


Hell: The Rebirth of a Fallen Angel

Look at the unspeakable things I've done to you, gaze upon the mess I've made of me.

We are incinerated hope and ashes of what's left of the last morsel of positivity.

Hell is a graveyard, a damned soul's last destination; a place where love goes to burn.

And maybe it's time that we both admit we've reached the point of no return.

I think I've been caught red-handed in committing the crime of the seven deadly sins.

I guess I must endure my due time: from now on it's either nothing or all in.

Pride, envy, greed, lust; the list goes on as I check off them all.

Lucifer, Beelzebub, Mammon and Asmodeus; I shall answer to them as they call.

Although my suffering may seem to be of unbearable proportions down here;

It could be worse to go back on my word, admitting to my greatest fear.

To suffocate my foolish pride may be a fine consolation for my current state of heavy-weighted regret.

Maybe I can still find my way to the surface, back to you, and redeem some selflessness yet.

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