i'm two traits converged into one messy finger painted paradox a disposition to do good, but i have maleficent intentions set in stone, my mind shows me how i look in the mirror but the threads of my body are like looking through a window, then again, who isn't wondering about the reality other people hide like a facade, cleverly subdued and sinking me in cold water until the ice is all i've ever known love is a difficult topographic setup, unable to be evened out inconsistant roads and treasonous dead ends bother me because it's potential to break my interior and exterior, but what do i matter? sticks and stones don't bother me, it's the words that break my bones and assist my architecture i carefully built along with my empire built from my bare hands to tumble haphazardly out of my reach, pulling these weights along my feet for some type of hope that things will finally become clear