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.
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.