My hands are stained with a thousand sins. My regret fuels a sickened, twisted life. The bile rising in my stomach, am I nothing but a foul beast? Was my past that I remember as truth just all lies? Paint a picture perfect portrait, don't let them know the sorrow that floods the painting, making the edges pour like a mosaic. My whole body, how the seams crack open like cement that's been paved far too long. The person in the mirror leaks invisible tears, there is no mouth anymore. I keep applying the super glue, but more cracks keep appearing. Just keep plastering, pasting a smile. Don't let them know the dread that seeps through your skin. No one ever sees how hard you've tried, how long you've stayed silent, just all the wrong you've done, all the cracks that haven't been hidden yet.
Selfish, you are. Foolish, you are.
I ponder the meaning of it all, the recovery, for either way I am still a sinful beast full of regret. Is perhaps the true recovery the one where we've perfected hiding the pain? All this nausea and no way to throw up the rue I've kept, so it festers inside, rotting and molding like half the food the tyrant so graciously gives. Let us join hands in the madness, let us scream aloud, for we know nothing but nonsense. Smile with me, for the agony is their greatest pleasure. Let us laugh and laugh at the foolishness of it all, for we are the true jokes of life. They spill their poisons that crawl upon my skin, and let them pour into my cracks and make me what I am. I am the pain of all. I am the gatekeeper, the one that holds all. If their pain or mine leaks out, I am punished. Dirty, dirty sinner. Disgusting child. Chortle with me, for we are getting the world wrong. For it is time to view it all backwards, and let the chaos become our holy sanctum.
We are the great descendants of madness.
We are the ones who feel all.
