FalsehoodA Poem by Anonymous -
There's two narratives at play , one to be true , the other subjectively false ,
But when all fails , I'll burry the nail into my neck , Sign a painting in my blood , Because it's for the art , I say , but it's an excuse to act like a child. There's a story in my head , it has a protagonist and his best friend , Mission to destroy the narrator , Slice his vocal chords from his neck , Because the truth is what kills , because ignorance is bliss , and how I want it. I'll share you a story of a boy , stuck in a mans body , tortured , self loathing scum, With the talent to fulfill his every desire , waisted to thought of what if and why , Cause his self esteem is lower than the average intelligence of the world , So he draws straws and snorts his agony away through the pill dust of anger. He's trapped in the illusion of a faulty brain with a switch to become an almighty b***h, So he bends backwards , watches the world walk over to his shoulders , so he can lift them up , Only to walk away with a broken spine , and a fractured self worth. But he's hiding a secret , buried so deep , he can't access the truth , But his eyes show more than they know , The worlds travelled to find love , only to be left with a blood filled chest. Because life is one riddled puzzle of blood , Only to be locked up by the question marks of whys and how's , But when the roses blemish , the souls tarnish , the eyes water , the clouds smile , Because death is the answer to all questions, since it's the answer to life © 2015 Anonymous - |
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Added on September 25, 2015 Last Updated on September 25, 2015 Author
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