Nobody will ever know you for what you are. Not even once you have been fully understood and never will you be able to convey what you think... what you feel and know.
None of your faces isn't a mask that you sculpted to highlight a specific shade of yours. All you ever said was a drastic simplification of your actual intend. Most of it is a lie anyway. To maintain the masks or to manipulate. Nobody will ever truly love your whole but only what you chose them to.
No one will ever hate you as deeply and honest as you do. Nobody has so many reasons for it. Never will any other person look into the gaping holes in the decor, to see you in your absolute. The void is yours and yours alone to get lost in. Filled with the nasty, the mad and abandoned. The questions and the disappointments. The rage and hatred. The embalmed corpse of your dreams and the missed chances.
The colour of the core is black and soaked in blood. Behind the barred door to your heart rots your innocence. The bloated corpse filling every room with the stench of decomposition. Murdered cold-blooded by the first time you willingly betrayed yourself the day you decided to hide from your judgement and distort your image. The day you accepted failure and put on your first mask. The day you made love and affection a tool to fulfil putrid needs. The day you stopped looking into your eyes in the mirror and became afraid of your mind. Your values are depraved irony, your tongue venomous.
They will never be able to know about this. You're the only villain you have to fear.
Everyone is their own worst nightmare. Is the root and cause, the very definition of ones perception of darkness.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts, ramblings and contemplations
PoetryNothing is more frightening than the mirror. This might be a little unsettling to read.
