Tearing Veils


Out and out and all they must think from what they know of me I’m blind,

Tell me anything you want, but your actions leave me far behind,

Inflate me with what I come to find is just hot air as you know I’m deflated,

As if I can’t read the signs, unclear mission statement and I’m then blamed for the interrogated.

So call me wicked but I’m tearing veils again,

You think because you drop a penny now and then,

That I should be all right, fine with another no thank you and goodnight,

And expect me to hide this expression, from the hurt of your unspoken confessions,

Did everyone think me getting better would somehow kill my vision?

As if I cannot see my place in every made and unmade decision.

So go on blow more smoke up my posterior,

From daily still feel inferior, so don’t claim me as false superior, you might live in the exterior ape-like, a land of social cases but I reach for the ulterior between the lines of those cloistered social graces.

Trust me when I say I don’t want to see the same old tired story as my life narrative,

About where I weigh in your hearts, I hate the sum of the final comparative,

Sorry, I can’t sit here like before, good little boy, corner now, wait your turn,

I tear these veils apart again as the truth material makes me allergic and then I burn.

Thomas Spychalski 

 

 

 

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