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The things that i’ve done wrong, i can’t forget.
Forgiving seems like the best thing to do,
But turns out, i can’t forgive myself, let alone forgive others.

The things i hold in my heart, it’s stains are indelible,
The pain i feel each night, surprisingly they somehow comfort,
Unlike the joys i feel, they come and go, laid forgotten when needed.

My mind betrays my heart like how a son betrays his mother,
Although some may protest, I say nay; it’s betrayal is abundant in many,
Whom ever believes their hearts are pure, still lives in denial.