Look at you. The laughs at a someone’s expense is one well-played sneaky hype for you. You don’t care what you do, say or feel. As long as you have an audience–that is all you’re looking for, an audience reacts to the character you play. You operate solely for the approval of others. Then again, you don’t know where self-satisfaction begins, and crowd-pleasing ends.
Things are less and less authentic about you as you move along this B-movie you called life. You know you’re a fake, and you secretly can’t stand it. So you use what “friends” have confided in you as entertainment for people who can care less about you. You’re right for a laugh, but never enough to be taken seriously. Now, look at you, you’re destroying real things for fake admiration.
You idolize a crowd that let you into their exciting life as long as you jump when they want to laugh as they tell you how high. You never had an issue going very low to get to what you think are societal highs.
I am sorry for you. Not because I hate you don’t see the person the others came to your stage performance to be, but because you are always headlining a concert no one wants tickets to, you promised one show, and gave whole new production. It never ceases to amaze me how you’re not tired of putting on a long, sad dance for an absent audience. Not the kind of song and dance we all play different characters of ourselves to a degree, especially when no one is looking. I believe that is the fault of authenticity in itself. No, you insist on embarrassing others for what they confide in you to the uninterested audience to shock them to look your way—anything to get people to laugh “with you.” (you know as well as I do they’re not laughing with you) You keep on dancing; I’m sure they’ll make an award for your efforts one day but until then, keep up the so-called work.
She is destructive with her thoughts; she can’t control herself
anxiety. She wondered if her life was a dream somewhere to someone
and they hated the view
depressed. She coxes herself back down to reality, telling herself that
the mind is vivid in the unknown, it fancies images she can’t describe
better. She wanted to take a deep breath in, but she felt back into her darkness.
Mindful. She wondered what meaning did her mind fancy
Or if there was meaning to her mind at all.
I will move
With you, I will
Leave still and
Your voice will move me
Surround me with your cold
And in your world
I don’t exist, but I walk in your world
you don’t need me nor do you see me
Whose Shirt is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite mysterious though.
He was cross like a restless shadow.
I watch his iron. I cry inflow.
He gives his cloth a hardened shake,
And screams “I’ve made a bad mistake.”
The only sound to make the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.
The shirt is Tattered, worn and deep,
like the useless promises he claims to keep,
Tormented by nightmares to never sleep.
Revenge is a promise I said to keep.
this t-shirt lies on this cursed bed
=houghts of violence swarm his head
the burn of the iron glows him red
Without a pause, I turned and fled.
Because of a t-shirt, his rage had me dead.
thinking about time keeps me awake
worrying about the time I lay still, awake
remember when I had love, surrounded by care
now I lie alone, wishing for something to bare.
You’re staring at everything you hate about you.
“look at this fool,” you obsessively yawn.
You make this routine— the ‘self-hatred’ song.
Don’t you realize, the most robust conversation you have is with yourself?
You can’t let your esteem falter, like an unstable shelf.
Self confidence is a skill that takes time to create.
That little advice sure sets the mood straight.
How long it takes to hone this skill is never wrong,
because the self-hate thing can only last for so long.
Then you start to crumble in the ashes you make.
Of striving to be something else, something you died to fake.
I believe in impostors that have nothing for me but the touring of uncertainty
the kinds who think in the worlds coming together but work to keep it apart
the foolishness I have seen for people to force themselves to be sen
I believe in impostors because the world is burning.
And they want us to join hands in the fire.
You take place on blind arrival
A new person all of a sudden
a created rival to your person
it’s a matter of survival for the psyche
new is better when you don’t recognize the old
little did you plan for, or hubris came out to play
the old you is still you, just in a new twisted way.
I asked to take time out of my life to explore myself
I didn’t know it was going to get so dark
I wasn’t expecting to take the wrong turn
I was thinking I was going to make things better for myself
I took time out to learn about myself
I wish I never did