It's me

I can be the wind at your sails,
the storm in your sea
I'm the poison apple,  
I'm the soil for the tree.
When you’re caught in some hail, you
ought think of me.
Not quick to snap,
all too capable
of slapping down some trickery,
but lies don't feel like victories,
honestly, I'm getting sick of me,
but I don't like to play the victim,
 
I'm too smooth in my circuitry,
y’all groove like circus freaks,
begging girls to,
“o, please look at me”
I keep myself hard to see,
alone in the corner seat,
my eyes, throwing hooks
your quotes will never beat.
Then
my lines reel them in, lord,
please let my sins proceed
People asking,
what has gotten in to me,
as though it's some kind of mystery
instead of just  
DNA and history,
plus maybe a fifth,
followed by some Listerine.
I don't try to be mean,
but this is me,
no demons have possessed
my inner being.
What I'm saying is,
I confessed and  
and saw no spirits flee.
 
I don't care what
I appear to be,
or what your foggy eyes,
fear they see.
I'm well aware of your despair
and just don't care,
you crossed the line and
now I'm prepared to
cross mine, I'll be fine, but  
me and my rotten mind
have only got a little time,
just thought I'd share,
don't be scared,
I don't scream when the
sun shines.