If I knew the truth I could write it
it evades me still the same
as succor to the broken heart
bleeding and dry, bruised and swollen
Am I so empty that you can ignore me
deceit and dark truth still familiar
flash that poison smile and taunt me
pluck the strings of this broken toy
Vacant deadlights drained of acuity
helpless words for blank souls
sullied and corrupt, intriguing and obsessed
as the brilliant pain of a perfect emotion
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