I am brutally honest, but I am false.
I try to do what's right, but I am wrong.
I am reasonable, but I am unfair.
I try to help, but I don't care.
You are truthful, but you decieve
You are wise, but you are naive.
You are heroic, but you are villainous.
You are kind, but you have cruel intentions.
We're on the same side, yet you make it a contest.
It's always about winning, never living in the moment.
Striving for perfection and pushing others down.
Never accepting flaws or finding common ground.
You mock me and my quixotic, moralistic universe.
My bizarre pastures, romantic skies, and trying waters
Because I see in color, you mark me credulous.
I'd soon perish than live a life of arrogance.
You preach sincerity, but you favor fables; always aloof.
Forever cutting me off, you don't want the truth.
You criticize other's mistakes, but never your own.
You lose it over tiny things, but it's horrid when I do so.
It seems you live in a house of glass.
Rooms of half-truths and superficial paths.
Throwing stones at those who live virtuous lives.
Seeing in dull shades of mere black and white.
It appears surreal, this sanctuary of glass.
But I see rips, tears, gaps, and cracks.
Flawed by true colors and blows thrown, exposing your deceit.
Many more hits, then the ground its walls may meet.
My fists are crimson and swollen from each strike
I tried to get through the lie, to find the real person inside
You keep away, patch up the shattered glass and pout.
I threw stones at your glass house, but you wouldn't come out.
