Compulsive.
Lies ...
Riddles to figure out ...
Compulsion.
Your need to punture already bleeding scars.
Digging deeper as you force your way inside of wounds deemed healed.
Figuratively speaking through tongues of deception.
Peering in wearing the mask of truth.
Deeper and deeper you guide yourself underneath the skin.
You reach the wall of forbidden pastures, but persuade your way through.
There is no shield to keep you at a distance.
For you have become obsession.
The roots to which I cling and and can't set free.
Compulsive; I seek more and feel as though your mask hides destiny.
