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Helplesly into the mirror
Hoping to see a better me
The real me
The one i was meant to be
His heart of gold
Untouched by my my remorse
But the image shifts
And erases the lies
And shows me the truth
The real me
so deep the green is hardly
Recognizable through the black
The soft Malleable heart of lead
Twisted and warped
Sitting in pieces in my stomach
Poisoning me slowly from the inside
And i wish
dearly and truly
That i might one day rip it
From my very chest
to stop the hurt from flowing
Painfuly through my veins
And i stare Longingly
At the red stained shards
As the crimson haze of rage
Melts the glass
Burning and etching fresh
Lines in my storybook arm
Rolling slowly and softly
From my knuckles
what does it meanI was lacking sleep the other day and as I drifted in and out of a lucid state a voice whispered in my head "the shadow lighters, the red space spiders"
Wasted Words.Wasted Words.
We wait for the last possible moment.
Even when confronting our opponents.
How we truly feel.
We hide behind our counterfeit expressions.
Conceal and contain our countless confessions.
Failing to announce,
What our mouths long to pronounce.
We purposely squander opportunities.
Maintaining our positions within our communities.
Avoiding any disclosure,
Reducing the risk of exposure.
We use humour to dilute what we actually say.
Because the truth does not have to be revealed today.
We know there always is a tomorrow,
So today has not got to be filled with sorrow.
We wait and wait.
Stall and prolong.
Until it’s too late
And the moment has gone.
There is never a convenient time.
For us to say what is really on our minds.
It takes the sight of a death bed.
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