And just what are you expecting to see?
Two eyes just like mine, hands that ache to feel flesh, there is something to fabricating love,
Adequate to say that these threats will go unheard, and through the years I'll get to say I told you so, yet I still feel like a failure,
Cross check the references, comb the referrals, you've got the experience for every job but the one you want,
I find security in preserving the real me,
Over thinking on what should be said next, when just their presence will suffice, trying to explain to yourself how to not sound crazy, all the while talking to yourself.
We all do it,
Some things are better left in that awkward silence, the longer it holds the more said than words could ever entertain, no pure thought is safe,
An invasion that's become obsession,
Even if I tell you all my secrets, there is still apart of me I'm missing, not even I can find it alone
My ego tends to show through,
I get it confused with my personality, which in turn doesn't show much as my skin, cursed to oblivious stares,
Then again I've been talking to myself,
Usually just saying hello, possibly singing some tune, or my favorite describing exactly what I'm doing in confusion,
"What am I writing?"
A taste of reality from the insomniac ramblers program, a show free to watch, and real physical participating with the whole gang,
Hold on tight to this thread,
Your future with me will not be what we expect, I recommend strict regimes for personal viewing times, our minds are hesitant to believing what's in the mirror
I see me, and I see you
Poetry has really helped with the talking to ones self, ha ha ha ha
