You sit on your perch in waiting
The pedestal you place yourself upon
So easily, and without care for the peasants below
Above the world, they're not your problem
Just seeking for gain of your own
Weed of a child though a child is innocent
Still, you wear that mask so well
You think it's a favour they need to see
So you let that handkerchief plummet to the ground
Wanting to be seen for all but the reality
They mistake it for wings you may have lost
And so you swoop, styled of course as a fall
Closing in on the prey, acting the hunted
Trapping them in psychological claws
Making them fight psychological wars
Until suddenly they see you for you
This entity not entirely seen
Wandering through the shadows
The darkness.
Well darkness, here is the light.















Comments
--
"In this life like weeds, you're the dirt I breathe." -Brock
--
The scrawlings of an idiot.
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"In this life like weeds, you're the dirt I breathe." -Brock
I don't know which is better. xx
--
The scrawlings of an idiot.
--
1, 2, Fuck you
You say I'm paranoid
Isn't that what you said
You say it's my imagination
And I'm fucked in the head
Thanks for the fave! xx
--
The scrawlings of an idiot.
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''She looks like... Well, if she showed up at my doorstep naked, I'd say, 'Hey, you should get dressed, I've got some clothes that might fit you.'"
-- "Striving for a higher logic."
And ah people like that get what they deserve in the end anyway, I don't care much for them. xx
--
The scrawlings of an idiot.
--
1, 2, Fuck you
You say I'm paranoid
Isn't that what you said
You say it's my imagination
And I'm fucked in the head
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