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Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the realist of them all? Everyone is on the check, mind my constant observers, like guards on duty, Shadows spying upon my every arrival, whispers behind every street wall, I passby, catching glimpse of dying echoes of the last letters of my name... 

Before my eyes showers of smiles I see.  Everywhere , in my ears soundwaves intransit,  laughters cracking the sun, so wish I had eyes on my back, work of my two-faced friends and families like artistic masterpieces of curses and scheming, painted with my every back turning, I'd be wealthy if exhibited their work on my back, to the world...

Wonder who their  make-up artist is, such a wonder he does to their faces, disguises they put on, sure they deserve an Oscar...

Thought masqueraders and clowns wore costumes, but no, the ones on my stage of life dresses smiles and laughters, only if God revealed their thoughts and hearts whenever they smile before my face, I'd undress their make-up, for the world to see their venom and sharpness of their hearts...

Loyalty, loyalty! What meaning to attach to you? when everyone now has their own version. The world crawls underneath my grind, serpents are the only realist. Was there an error in Gods creation? Sure you'd be obliged to ask. Earth devour me not this early, at least allow me a sitting into my foes repenting scene, then my soul shall find itself directions to peace, for reality has failed my living days... 

Who shall carry my casket to my grave? At least I deserve some fairness in my burial, is that much to ask?
#Poetic_Ink

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