I may have been a bitter fiend, but behind that confessional screen, secrets were given that I too never wanted, swear I saw love there you later denied and never vaunted, once my sickness became clear.
Could not even get those basic handwritten letters, credits paid to lesser debtors, everywhere you all would go, sacred places I would never know, you make me feel horrible about my fear.
Meanwhile outside the din of voices, retconning my disaster era choices, the proverbial sticks, and zones, that in a speech to others, soil my bones, what will make those little mice cease?
So add those little lifelong gashes together, plus surviving my location’s severe weather, everyone says to seek delight, but every time I find a reason to fight, I just fold myself into another crease.
Seems this magnet only attracts eventual waste, so rather then more pain I will wear this face, hide wounded without a trace, radio silence in haste, hung jury and no damn case, yeah it is me who misplaced, but also me who has to live with what the others never said out loud and my own damn disgrace at wearing the mask.