Self inspiring hatred; being who I'm not.

Self inspiring hatred.
Brought on from the depths of your soul.
Even if you wanted, you wouldn't be able to change it.
So you just keep digging a hole.
hate myself.
hate what I pretend to be.
wish I could be a book on a shelf.
One that nobody reads.
want to lock myself in a maintenance closet.
want to drink the various bottles of poisons and chemicals.
want to go slowly, so I feel every ounce of pain as I drip through the fosset.
don't want to numb it all away with another shot of demerol.
just want to feel myself die.
want to feel like what I really am.
been running from myself too long, via injection, just staying high.
I am nothing, don't worry, I completely understand.
I know what I'm not.
spend too much time convincing other people that I am what I am not.
won't run away from it anymore.
Suicide is too cowerdly though.
But I want to, and have ever since I walked through that door.
feel like I've been living on death row.
Don't know what to do.
Probably just ignore the feeling like all the other times.
...But no one ever knew.
That it was you, committing those unheard of crimes.
Blame them on me.
And it's all been believed.
Because what I'm not and who I've pretended to be,
Makes it all seem real.
It's all too much to try to feel.
Too much pride,
to commit suicide.
Too much regret,
to take anything to numb me back from the dead.
You killed me.
Just like you did before.
Planning the first move the second I walked through the door.
I guess when pretending to be something else, this is the price you pay.
I guess I won't be waking up today.
No one will ever know it was you.
Because they think it's something I would do.
They think I deserve it.
They think I did it.
How wrong they are.
Self inspiring hatred,
because I refuse to be myself.
So cliche these days.
Never thought it'd be so real.
As it is right now.
Been locked in a world of my own.
And now the seeds of death have been sewn.
And now I can't do anything.
Because I'm not me.
The lie that I lived has now become the lie that I am.
If I could have just stayed a little longer in my head,
Fate wouldn't have dealt me this losing hand.
I guess the moral is,
don't pretend to be who your not
Or you'll end up like me.
Bleeding out on the street because of a self inspiring hatred shot.