If this were any other motion, I'd let it die inside skin
But I feel it so clear, and fear what comes from within
And they come in droves, distraction from what I am
To kill all that is genuine, insistent hologram
Where did that breath go, that kept me so still
It seems to be in vain, that search for what's real
And no expression I know, could allow for this shame
When shown through a mirror, all this waste that I claim
No writer of words, no philosopher's mind
Could ever express, that which I cannot find
So deep in this place, stymied thoughts held in speech
Yet still I ache for, a feeling that I can't reach