I'm not nice

Lost again
In the abyss of nescience,
Listen-less and silence and
I speak to emptiness
The same way I cause it.
I'm not a good friend, I'm not a good person,
I only care about myself and sensibility,
Reasonable to the end that I can't even support a friend
Because my painful honesty cuts off my kindness.
I'm a mess.
But not as far gone as they are, the ones I pair myself with,
The ones I have no idea how to comfort, no inkling of what to do,
I don't know what's expected of me, and even when I do know
I mess up my comfort by telling the truth.
I've got a personal point of view that I just can't properly twist
To fit the need and situation.
I don't know.
I don't know how I'm supposed to do this.
I wish I had the right answers to everything, I wish I always knew the right words to say,
I wish I didn't always let truth get in the way.
But maybe I find truth to be more fascinating, more brutal
In a way that shocks people out of their inner peace or war
Far more than a lie could.
But more often than not, I say nothing
Because I can't suppress my honesty, but I know it's not the time to share it,
And I can't lie, I've tried,
So I stay silent
As if that would hide the foulness inside
The clarity of my eyes.
I'm not nice,
I'm as harmless as black ice.