Got into a car accident this morning and I left my phone in my car.Don't know how to reach you.  Just got home, car totaled and some muscle injury.  I'm fine overall.  This is not a poem.

The man with the crooked smile,
hidden motives were his style,
the droves of people noticed his trick,
no one was fooled and he seemed to be slick.
He smiled only to please and never to emote.

The flaw was in his act,
he seemed too abstract...
For he was silent.
He was not violent.
But people's imaginations run wild with a grin so sinister.

Once just an imitation of an actor,
now the best in show and his smile is a factor,
the mystery in his soul is as dark as the outcomes,
you can even hear the drums.
Just a puppet for the gods, the humans believe he's real.

The day we met,
the gods set a bet.
We would destroy each other,
first of all we would love one another,
then hope we never met.

The touch of a stranger so familiar,
in the dead of winter,
the warmth of our bodies intertwined,
both blind.
Funny how we play tricks on the mind.

The outcome already known,
and to cover the gamble they made a loan,
two souls destined to cross,
when it was all over it was a loss.
A deprivation of satisfaction and uncertainty of the future.

I thought I knew you,
your favorite color was blue,
all I saw was your physical,
you seemed so quizzical.
I'd tell you what was on my mind and you'd tell me also.

The day I seen your true colors,
after all those lovers,
(I) found happiness in your confusion,
even if it was all an illusion.
Someone too ruined by the past and no future with me.

I was still colorblind to you,
I had no clue,
I longed for your kiss,
that day I was forever in bliss...
All that meant nothing to you just a distant memory.

Today I'm spreading pain from my heart to my body,
even if I my real hope is to disembody,
I still carry on weary and tired,
it's as if life had me fired (by TRUMP),
And yet admired secretly.

I'm a miracle and a mistake,
and I know I can't have my cake and be a fake,
drying my tears by pushing the back into dry eyes,
this way no one hears my cries,
I'm pointless and yet full of purpose, like a puppet.

I don't care when I'm numb,
when I could die by a gun,
when I pretend to smile for a buck,
I feel like I've been hit by a truck.
**Lying can be similar to dying a little bit every day.