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I'm blinded to the lies, but I can see the truth, as hard as I can try, it really is no use. It's like my eyes are covered, with a clothe made of perspective, I can see the brighter times, but the sadness is elective.
I'm silent to the people, but I scream when I'm alone, it's all because of my views, and shade that I have thrown. What I speak is truth, but they say truth is sin, it's like I'm zippered shut, with a permanent false grin.
My pulse is slowly fading, but it's still enough to push, push past the fact I'm dying, and that life is an ambush. My veins are somehow running, but the drugs have taken toll, I'm on my last lap, and the addiction will take hold.
I own the blind eyes that can see, the sealed lips that scream, and a heart held by the seam.
