I hate myself for how I seem stable

Although to reside I am unable

The lies I don’t say but somehow deem

Unintended things still mark my lost way

And I wish someday to sway

From the past that still holds me in its unceasing grip,

A glorious inequity that from here cannot be flipped,

So I try to be free, but from myself I cannot flee

My cursed reception of delusion

Drives me further into seclusion

With nothing left but utter confusion

I try to ignore ever meaningless word that is let out the door,

But through facetious deception

I elaborate misconception

Often thus relaying, sinful reflection,

I regret what I’ve said at times

Those demeanors that make me want to just rot in bed

Denying my very purpose I might as well be dead

But from the depths of my hate there still compiles,

An origin of insecurity that defiles,

More than what I love, but also what I hate

Gradually erasing the lies, maybe it’s not too late

But I’m still blinded by the doubts of the truth

The dirt beneath the porcelain roof

Constantly reminding me that there is no such thing as proof

So denying myself by denying my denial

What do I became...nothing

Is that even possible to be the implausible

But here in the darkness of never forgetting, forbearing, or forgiving

I can no longer be teething or I’ll die to the hate of not believing

Yet in this time of redundant immorality,

Something else in the distance is displayed in a beam

I see not the might of the risen, but the sight of the fallen

For those who are truly wise, were once foolish

And those who can see, were once blind

So I take my hate for everything and through this blindness it becomes love

All of a sudden I’m nothing,

but simply,

 a white dove