blood on hands

What It Is

I feel like every single thing is like a mind game,  played and laid out for me

I can't feel a single thing, like I'm not blind, but I still can't see

 

What is it really? Perhaps it's not that important?

Tell me what it is, or is it just my own comportment?

 

I have walked in the very things I've looked down upon

What I once thought was selfish, now I too am wrong

 

and now there is blood all over my hand

But I have no idea why, I just don't understand

 

This is a complication called the human mind

Irony, double standards, hypocrisy, A place to be so blind

 

To wallow and loop in this thick puddle of shame

For the mistakes commited, I fairly wore the blame

 

Knowing is the beginning is something I suppose

It's better to learn, rather than to find it to oppose.

 

So I guess I'll take my feelings and throw them to the floor

I'll leave you where you originally were, trapped inside a closed door

 

And you can echo your goodbyes

as you embrace yourself to the ink of sheer ignorance and sighs..