Little child

The little kid with the disfigured personality chases me in the nightmares.
Walking with, to the pit whispering little deafening sins into me.
Little child with a promise from the end making the string turn to descend.
Why cant nobody see that I am you?

What I thought was hair was actually needles jointed into that fractured skull.
Circumcisions on my nails when I start to pull them into your head.
Too much mercury in the arctic mind was the toys of today that we broke.
Why cant nobody feel that your my other side?

Lets be apart of the group turn to be unpredictable.
While the stars and planets cremate into blurring pages as our signs.
Cant even walk but we dance in our platonic kisses against our superiors.
They cant understand our little secret connection.

We should dismember ourselves and be put into wooden broken faceless puppets.
The world treating us on strings how am I suppose to show you to the world.
Maybe this is why all little children are smiling while knowing they are more than this.
Anarchy is guidance being pushed by someone who you cant talk to is a fading wig on your head.

Double personality ultra stationarity frosted judgment while I am stuck in this cage.
Why shake while the gun is being aimed at the part that matters the least?
Introduce a little molded inner dependence on one such as a little child and see the outcome.
You and me are one for them to believe.