A look in the mirror and I see a man
Lied to,
And in this most recent unraveling,
Callously hard,
Flesh turned to graphite,
Graphite pressured in the many millions of years that pass in the clock ticks between the question and the answer:
“My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me,
tell me where were you sleeping last night?”

I already knew the answer,
And she confessed,
As if that were the admirable action,
And in it she tries to convince me I’m the most important person in her world,
But my retort yields no worthy response:
“If I’m so important why did you lie to get out of the last night you could spend with me to be with him when you’re about to spend four days together?”
and I leave as she’s all apologies.

It smells like teen spirit,
endlessly drawn in her own desires,
not thinking of anything but what she wants,
So she flaunts shoddy lies she can’t hide past her eyes,
and his worth is amplified as my own tumbles down,
a frowning clown unbound
because I’ve sawed through my bonds with these diamond fingertips wrought in the pressure of her deceit,
Those lies have left me endless, nameless and a negative creep.


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