Sunday, 5 March 2017

Dying to confuse

dying to confuse
lying, and so obtuse 
burnt on a whisper of praise 
leaving me on a smoked daze.
This pathology cannot be explained,
it lies within the maze
of psycho-fancies and spineless interpretations,
they will never understand,
as you make depression your brand,
that you live on imitation --
isn't that what life essentially is?
being a copycat from birth.
I must say
the ponderous will never avert, 
the day of the darkest lay --

your grave. 


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