I hope love buries my face in mud.

I'm ugly. I'm dumb. I'm careless. I can't be saved. I'm anxious for death. I'm scared of life. I'm scared of love, but yet I need it. So I keep it. Somewhere safe, nowhere near my brain. Alotta strains... Alotta waves.... Alotta changing pace. Paces. Spaces. I'm tired of it. The misplaced action. I blame myself. For not living up, but never giving up.