Can You, by M-chan
I spend my time surrounded by art.
I am a writer at heart.
I play more instruments than most.
I have a tendency to boast.
I talk to myself when I'm alone.
Most of the hurt in me is not outwardly shown.
I hate change.
I dislike how I am sometime estranged.
I stare at the quivering blade in my hand,
And time drips by like hourglass sand.
Grief and rage fill me to the brim,
And nothing anymore is done on a whim.
Can you still accept me like this?
Can you act as if these facts you dismissed?
Can you take me as I am?
Do you even give a damn?