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The devil is not what he seems. He can take your hand and tell you  there is nothing to fear, mimicking a child's infatuated dream. Wipe away your tears gently from your delicate cheek. Shower you with jewels, roses, a small black dress. Anything you seek from the man your hands caress. His words can be more soothing as gentle fingers to a harp, his eyes possess your soul with a stare so angelic, and a mind so sharp and a figure that's athletic. He is the shadow that lurks looking for love in every place, you believe you are his universe as to him you are just a small town in a state. Reality is that he's a witch's curse, he promised you he was unique to others maybe better but you realize he's even worse.
Nothing personal! Just wrote what came to mind
normality isn’t the same as the chaos we evade.
The truth is, normality alludes us,
we are formed beyond our minds declination.
Somebody stole my freedom,
using outside of the box thinking,
in your mind and mind.
And I was minding my business,
just trying to take my own sweet time, again.
and deja vu came through the window, again.
the repetition of the rain
cool calm and collected,
the pain subsides,
when i lived in my hiding place
and the raindrops made the gutters flow.

obviously,
yet never expected;
is it you? is it true?
the juxtaposition of you.
but they stole our souls before they attacked the weakened body.
We didn’t hear them coming through the car crash TV;
Are you and I the zombies?
Is your mind in control,
do you mind if they take control,
or do you not mind at all?
When the mask falls the I hide behind isn’t alien in dreams.
not who i saw in the soul.
is it true, deja vu.
so benign in idyllic lies,
a million miles away.
tribes hide behind nothing but a little something to be unique,
maybe a little something else
to be discreet.

But other than that,
food and air,
and company.
there’s not much else we need.
Make up?
Make up your mind -
who decided who you needed to be
it certainly wasn’t you.
Lost in the illusion of choice,
like deja vu,
like Descartes knew,
in collusion with the muse of normality,
by what is true to you,
not actually the truth.
it’s the perfect ephiany in alliance with deja vu.
but what came first ?
my mind, or yours,
through closed doors of inspection;
deception - they let them tell them.
inception - they let them tell them
And I know this fact to be true,
because I’ve seen you in dreams before
and I couldn’t believe my eyes;
or change my view.
I couldn’t believe it was you,
deja vu,
deja vu.
first i've wrote after a little break
I've always wondered off alone, I've never thought of my house I live in as a home. As I grow I wonder about the possibilities of the earth, I've longed to explore since year one of my birth. When the sun shines, I look to it and stare. Wherever else he shines above I want to  be there. I wonder off enjoying the silence of the spring day, creating ideas that may go a long way. They address me as a loner who will socialize never but in all honesty being alone is what makes me so clever.
They say that I'm one with a future so bright.
But it seems my anxiety helps me fail to see the light.
People carry hearts, not within the chest. Inside the sleeve. Love is a rare spoken language as the world silently grieves.
You been suicidal so long now,
that you forget what it feels like
to actually want to die.
her lies taste like sweet nectarine,
those discreet kisses on my neckerchief,
make up on the pillows,
tears inside the handkerchief,
folded over and over to compress our fears into make believe,
in origami,
the patterns left,
embedded in my chest,
alieness to something,
but so close to where you used to be.
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