The fact of the matter is that you
Choose to believe
There's no reprieve
From this constant, continual...
Consistent deceit
This contraceptive perception
Manifesting what you believe
'What happens once will come again'
From that there's no relief
That which you take heed from
Is imprinted on your skin
As if you can't reach within
For matters intimate
Second guessing and stressing
While vacantly sedated
Placating under false pretenses
-Keeping sated
-Faded
Like you were the product
Of this aftermath
Attacking the apt capability
Of all you lack
-Underhanded
In the most subtle approach
This perpetual cognizant apparition
Of these ghosts
Furthermore
They boast and beg recognition
Putting prescriptions to their name
Like defacing prepositions
Could well esteem their fame
I maintain that I refuse
To be a product of the masses
Drifting whimsically and making victims From my caprices
The end result of my fate
Never created hate
Only this conditioned position
From which I now must escape
I'd rather sit
Listen and contemplate
Than justify my shame
I'll take the pain
Of my twisted thoughts
Before letting them run astray
No one pray for me
Because I've done this once before
And sanction I will find
Within this mind
Before I hit the floor
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
The fact of the matter is that you
Choose to believe
There's no reprieve
From this constant, continual...
Consistent deceit
This contraceptive perception
Manifesting what you believe
'What happens once will come again'
From that there's no relief
That which you take heed from
Is imprinted on your skin
As if you can't reach within
For matters intimate
Second guessing and stressing
While vacantly sedated
Placating under false pretenses
-Keeping sated
-Faded
Like you were the product
Of this aftermath
Attacking the apt capability
Of all you lack
-Underhanded
In the most subtle approach
This perpetual cognizant apparition
Of these ghosts
Furthermore
They boast and beg recognition
Putting prescriptions to their name
Like defacing prepositions
Could well esteem their fame
I maintain that I refuse
To be a product of the masses
Drifting whimsically and making victims From my caprices
The end result of my fate
Never created hate
Only this conditioned position
From which I now must escape
I'd rather sit
Listen and contemplate
Than justify my shame
I'll take the pain
Of my twisted thoughts
Before letting them run astray
No one pray for me
Because I've done this once before
And sanction I will find
Within this mind
Before I hit the floor
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