I wish you don't tell me the things I need to know.
I want you to tell me lies about the truth I already know.
I look at you and I think; who am I?
I wonder - What do you see through me?
Is it the mask I wear so religiously and zealously, or maybe
you see yourself in the mirror in my heart?
When you look inside my heart, my soul, do you see a dark
filthy swamp, or the Garden of Eden? Endless rain or
evergreen trees?
Do you hear the sound of my blood dripping slowly, or the
bird's joyful chirping?
I hear nothing in my head but cries and screams, I see
nothing but a dim blurry light.
I feel the warmth of the sun and the freezing cold of the
dark waters.
I ran. I fell on my face, down on the ground. It's devouring
me. I am not dead; I'm just not alive anymore.
I wish you to tell me, is it so?
Find my soul under the ruins of your love, your hatred, your
compassion. Find it and lift it up, for it may sink into my
endless swamp, eaten by insects, rotten.
It will fall into darkness, for I am not dead; I am just not
alive anymore.