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,
And you did great on your show.