The inner voice of a monster
Tired of myself, myself only hurting
tired of my soul turning, turning through all the versions of myself
so fast, that I am burning
flipping fast like a book of pages
passed beneath a breeze that gently rages
and the story goes too fast, too fast to know
who I am, where my heart should go
where the tides in my eyes should flow
in this fairy tale gone demented
my whole life suddenly resended
from beauty to pain caught in a drain
and thus, the nightmare slowly begins
stealing away from this world, all I comprehend
replacing my life with all this sin
a journey down roads, a sickness which corrodes
spreading like an infection, caught up in the congestion
of all these moments caught up in life
suddenly turned to the reflection of strife
and where has it gone, my perfection
inside this mind of confection
obsession with my rejection
in this life gone awry, or life caught up in a monster's lullaby
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