House of Mirrors -

Paint my thousand faces

And you still won't pin me.

Still it must be quite a laugh

To watch me walk into myself

Until it hurts -

Until I get so high off all my empty words:

Roll them up and let it burn so slow

Through such a filthy puff.

Oh let it linger in my mouth

Until my eyes are teared and brain is cleansed

Into pristine abyss

And I regurgitate the very vomit ink

That prophesized my end

Into that dirty sink again...

Weak... and weak... and weak... and weak...

And pitying myself

While you sit right in front of me

And I can't say the words in mind...

No, I can't tell...

And so I'll hold these thoughts

That split my soul six ways from fucking Hell!

And watch them harrow at my grip...

Oh why am I so ill-equipped?

Oh Mighty Scapegoat:

I can place the blame on you

For not providing an escape boat

From my lake of tears.

But still, I paddle all my fears

To you... to safehold.

And I pray you listen... to my quaint prose

Questioning where all this faith goes...

That convoluted mess that promised once to cleanse me

Oh so mighty...

Is now tangled in a soul ever untidy...

And now this title doesn't even fit the thoughts inside.

But it's okay if I can fucking jot until I die

To pass the time

And maybe buy some rhymes from mimes

Who still say more than me...

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