Trickery

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I am not as terrible as I sound
I put myself down
Blame my mind
Beat my existence to the point of no return
I can't help but drift as wood does in a river
It snakes around, trying to grab the slippery mud encasing the sides of freedom.
Each time,
It comes closer
And each time
Justice slips from its stiff soldier hands
Calloused from the 20,000 year war within
Burns and bruises scattered among the ruined fingers that once grasped the feathers of aspiration
Now charred with disbelief and burnt promises.
So instead of stepping out into the stage owned by the ever-spinning world at the point of a knife,
I hide behind an ugly horrible mask of a serial killer
Because weakness is not tolerated
And I am granted a new life

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