Misconception. Misconstrued. Misdirected. Misinformed.
I may be mistaken, but I won’t miss you.
I. Don’t. Understand.
I’m not playing your little game of cat and mouse.
Go find a rat to infect with your false charm and winsome character.
My IQ may not be 130 but I know a thing or two.
And I’m not likening the likes of you.
You are in hiding; don’t deny it … I know you are.
I can see it behind your eyes.
There are doors and bolts and locks galore.
You often change them when you don’t want to feel anymore.
Maybe it hurts you to feel. Anything?
I’m not sure, not sure of anything now that I know that every lie you make could be as easy as the breathes you take.
Your lips may say happy but your eyes reveal who you really are: dead, weak and false.
You know far too much to tell, yet your lips stay sealed, as if magically sustained of repeating information, well about you anyway.
You never want to talk about yourself.
Egotistic ?
You ?
NEVER.
Yet you speak non of it.
I can feel it radiating of your skin
Your pride.
It’s quite maddening.