Flaws upon flaws,
My skin crawls,
The mirror reveals all,

My mothers words,
Lost to the whims of the world,
In a pursuit to please other girls,

I feel like an object of social dissection,
With the eye of the beholder,
What's your interpretation?

You see it too,

I hear the horror in your averted eyes,
You see all I despise,
There's no way for me to hide or deny,

I shouldn't be so fazed,
It's just a phase...
It will all fade. 
~Zupe

My grey matter,

Knows little about the grey area,

What’s even scarier,

Which extreme prevails?

The deity on each end cannot be measured on any scale,

Hilarity or Hysteria,

Freedom or Persecution,

Both so prominent,

But one must claim supremacy,

Who will survive in my cranium?

Who will survive in my cranium?

Who will survive in my cranium?
~Zupe

Autonomy. Anatomy. 
Body.

Three words to describe the vessel of my being,

My spirit and particles which flow to transcend what we have come to comprehend through the lucid transport of the written word.

I am a distortation of the truth, the reasoning behind a truce,

You have to start looking at the level of the roots, to really understand the power of what I do.

But looking too long may see you lose your eyes, taken with your mind.

Like looking directly at the sun,

You could lose your eyes,
Glaring at the source of life.
This game called life with the endless levels of strife,

Of course to different degrees,

But if you care to disagree,

I guess you’ll be stuck on your knees,

While I stand to try and live a life many would die for.
Soak in these words as I promise you, they’re vital.
~Zupe