This World of Ours

They believe I can’t see it

Their twisted smiles

Saliva dripping from their self-trained tongues

Speaking in their fluent language of Lies

Eyes coated in Sin

(Vanity, the most precious of them all)

Planting the seed of Paranoia inside unfortunate minds

Backward promises; they often vowel

A game of souls; they love to play

There’s no escape from this life of ours

No restart button I’m afraid

No rewriting pages already written

Oh, my poor sweet child-

How I weep for you-

I sincerely do-

To be born into this realm of misery

Nothing is what it seems

Everything what that is

Is not

“Welcome to a cynical world”