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What's wrong with me?

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Sometimes, I hate myself. For all the things I did. For all the things I didn't do. For all the things I said. For all the things I kept inside. For all the wishful thinkings. For all the thoughts I put aside. For all the things I put people through. For all the nice things I didn't do.  Maybe a basket case. A liability. Maybe too melancholic for anyone to hold.  
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Sometimes, I hate myself. For all the things I did. For all the things I didn't do. For all the things I said. For all the things I kept inside. For all the wishful thinkings. For all the thoughts I put aside. For all the things I put people through. For all the nice things I didn't do. 
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No one will understand. So you'll just be there. Trapped, in your own thoughts. Tossing and turning at night. Trying to be free. A prisoner, to your own mind. 
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