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mood |
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 awake |
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Cynical swirls of sympathy swirv drunkinly around my head,
and im sitting here wishing on a dieing star that theyd vanish,
into nights sky filled with mislain thoughts and persecutions.
Poor poor twisted me. Im so dilapidated, im withering into nothingness.
.
All this talk of my so called dejection,depression, my 'suicidal tendencies'.
All the fantasys of the razor edged conformist,looking to pick me clean.
Thats right, you can chase me with your words like soap,
and maybe for just a moment youll see me, the person you want me to be.
.
but ill just roll around in my feelings of dirt and mud again,
and engulf myself in this murky color you seem to mistake for pain,
and self inflicted agression, but again, thats another accusation.
Because I wear this color proudly shown.
.
I am me, a auburn brown streak of paint,
slicing through a painting of a pink sunset,
produced by the hands of liars and cheats.
This picture of false poetry, smeared by me.
.
Paint me plain if you wish,
but you can not paint me you.
I am me, the brown X on your forehead,
pointing out your ignorance, and mislead accusations.
.
Take your simpathy somewhere else,
you been tricked, fooled, you have met the greatest con of all time,
so i accuse you of accusation.
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aggravated
artistic
melancholy
apathetic
amused
anxious