Bruised
Bruised
like from a swift hit to the jaw.
Colors change
from reds to purples to blues to yellows.
And the grime
beneath my feet will stay behind forever.
A fight fought daily
against the machine.
It will tell you what
you want to hear, but not what you should know.
Exposing faulty smiles, so poorly imitated.
And they’ll never see the difference.
Who are you to say you know
Me?
I am as dead as I was alive.
I have been no more than a programmed heartbeat.
Your eyes have only seen the working mechanism,
feeding you lies while it feeds me life.
I will never live like you do in harmony.
And when I’ve learned acceptance, I’ll begin to self-destruct.
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