Choking off people’s assumptions, I’m not like the enigma.
I may look complicated; Yet I’m just a small, arduous spec of the universe. I may give catechisms; Bet it’s painless to break, if you feel. I might have a perplexing persona; But honey, that’s the shadow of your ego.
I was drowning, in the basin of lies called fairy tales. And I was drunk, in the virtual reality you made. I let you choke me, with the wine so called love.
I’m awake; After weeks of being high of your lies, After months of being high of your manipulating acts,
Bet that’s why you’re making a great actor.
The masks finally ripped of the performer; The lies, the bitter truth, Leaving the ego, caught in the act.
Turns out that I can’t differentiate between reality and stage-play. I can’t find the difference between when you truly do something, Or when you’re doing your job on the stage.
I have myself questioning about things, Do actors have feelings? Do actors always manipulate their acts?
I finally read the script; The deceptive tears, the dishonest sweet words, And how I’m just a puppet to your puppetry.
Then I realised a thing. I was not a conundrum. I was a slave to your ego, In your stage-play,