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
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