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Rated: E · Poetry · Writing · #2301915
jan. 04.2023
I

Stranded in crowds and overwhelming sounds
Filled entirely by shame, guilt, and clowns
If what surrounds me is endless chaos,
Then why must you blame me for feeling lost?
And what is worse- i am overtaken
My essence, for theirs, mistaken
These copies and clones of the same animals in clothes
They drown out my vision, suffocate me, and i overflow
And so ultimately, i am forsaken.
In the end, I am the same very clown
Like all the others, pasted repeatedly- a duplication
And it goes without saying how
All the remains of any sense of self have been drowned out,
Purified, simplified, and claimed to be absurd
The last of the remains cruelly murdered
All that is left is a skinsuit of what is now
forced into submission and beaten down.

Stuck between endless reflections and unnecessary deceptions
Followed by doubt of self, others, and affection
(All I need is to rid myself of this horrible suspicion
All I need is a resurrection!”)
In painful attempts to cease this paradox, to shatter the matrix
Wounded by scraps of glass left from the mass
The last of any unpredicted acts,
The last of any hopeful attacks.
It shall never cease to be a destined loss
Unknown the purpose behind it all, uncountable the cost.

["My gift of self is raped"]


II

As I stare into yet another mirror
All I can sense is deceit and fear.
But after all this time, I have managed to find
Hidden deep in the crowd,
uncorrupted, one of a kind!
Now it seems more than unnecessary to hide
Oh but how could I lie!
A kind, welcoming glance leaves me in a trance
Truthful, undead, you stand.
Now my costume deems to have no purpose
I can finally tear off this worthless carcass.
Now the mask i wear, it can be thrown away.
Underneath, I may be treacherous,
But the pretty little gown I have forever worn-
(And) into my ugly, rotting skin it has been sown-
Is of a clown, a fraud!
A terrible, lowly, filthy liar.
But now, I shall burn it
Rid myself of disease
Horribly forced upon me
And we can watch hell burn
From a distance- it will be far from us
And finally we can look at each other
And, at last, without seeing a repetitive face- a disgrace.
I am free, and you are here
Stay with me, I will hold you near.
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