Missing a Diagnosis

It’s in the outlaw of your eye the alluring glint of a romantic catastrophe a petulant lip of how you want to be amused and you’re feeling so easily abused the rose is so afraid to die no escape from it and so every savior is a liar and every reason why you quit It’s in the penumbra of your smile a beckon to despair come on and meet me there burn in your empathy but you’re so easily bemused so readily confused diagnosis all the while the proof was never there just anxiety a sorrows mask to wear to tare the truth away from plausibility It’s in the thickness of your skin feeds of their sympathy a whirling distraction doddering at deaths door and how you always wanted more but you felt so very used and everyone’s love is just a ruse to have no love within eats up your memory with it’s fire with all the good deeds keeping score and so every savior is a liar It’s in the way your voice will plead I am a silent little mouse and there’s nothing that I need just ache for me instead but all the care that you refused so illogical you accused I’m just the living dead feigning symptom of my ire the walking protagonist of a make-believe may die a sudden death And so every savior is a liar