Living Lie

Throat along a serrated edge,

falling down the abysmal ledge...

 

Personified hypocrisy-we are the living death.

Surviving upon debris-we devestate with each breath.

I am a human who evolved from a dog,

with a brain of fabric and the body of a log.

Putrid fish lips and an angel's serpent tongue,

I don't have gills, but air's still poison in the lung.

My thoughts are plastic, my hope's a gun,

my most sacred dream's a bullet-but I only have one.

 

I am, in truth a living lie,

the only immortal who was never alive.

Living undead so I can't die,

Disturbed in my slumber so agony can thrive.

 

With my throat along a serrated edge,

I'm falling down the abysmal ledge.

Insight's hooked to fish out what's inside,

And any other man would've died.

 

Blood gurgling from my throat I can see my intestines dangling above me,

but no matter how tight I shut my eyes, I can't escape this f*****g reality.

The flies make idle conversation as they attack my mutilated liver,

No matter what I'm given, it turns out that I'm the giver.

Is there supposed to be this much blood in this simple organism?

Can we ever remove the restraints and throw me in the schism?

 

I am, in truth a living lie,

the only immortal who was never alive.

Living undead so I can't die,

Disturbed in my slumber so agony can thrive.

 

I'm cut open for all to feast, and everyone enjoys my sanity,

there's nothing like watching my heart taken piece by piece to damage the man in me.

I cut myself open, and trusted others with my heart,

And in their cruel treachery they're taking me apart...

 

With my throat along a serrated edge,

I'm falling down the abysmal ledge.

Insight's hooked to fish out what's inside,

And any other man would've died.

Reviews

[Wildecat]

Whoa this is a very deep poem, a very good write a pleasure to read.