Paranoia

It's as though you were denying yourself happiness. Imagine, every day, knowing you can do great things and having absolutely no desire to ever witness fruition. Apathy is a monster and tragedy and stress are it's meal plans.

You ever get the feeling that everyone is looking at you, seeing flaws that you don't even know you have? Watching every clumsy, foolish move you make? There's a habit of gossip to isolate someone, and passive aggressiveness demands we say mean things behind backs. What if you're one of those people that has the knives in their back the second you close the door? That feeling never leaves. It's all encompassing and it bleeds me dry. Dripping away all of my passion in a blood trail dance.

I'm often right in assumptions.

Second best is a funny term. Jack of all trades, master of none. Not so smart as the genius, not so funny as the crack up. Beauty pales before an idol, charm seems like a natural ability. A footnote to a biger picture.

Where to fit yourself in then?

When do you begin compared to the ending that's been written for you?
That mask you bought doesn't come with an off switch does it?
Playing nice is awfully easy, wonder how many times a lazy soul swaps truth for it?

Who stays friends and who stays 'till the end?
Separate the substance from the trash
Take what I am, I could tell you all of it
Still want to hear?

Ha, didn't I ask how you were?

Reviews

[Martin Ramirez]

It strikes directly at the reader, I think. It strikes strongly, and gets to the point quickly. It speaks directly to the reader, and accuses us. I liked it.