look at yourself, self.

the way it was....
i remember very little,
a hazy smoking barrel
i was fuming in the middle.
the train kept a rollin
and i was left behind
searching for reasons
with nothing to find
except twisted lust
and no one to trust,
not even myself
who invested in hell,
with a promise to repay
but no income on the way.
therefore i sold myself.
the center of thee,
the warmth in my touch,
my soul,
all of me.
the resolution is close
as i near realization.
the path to happiness
is my own recreation.