My Art Is My Truth

So Rough


So Curved


Words are


When paired with a double-jointed mouth.


I bend my words past reflexion 
Just enough to cause perflexion


My words sway to your desire like a supple willow tree.


How pointless words are to be for me


Because when the dialogue stops
Where do my thoughts bleed?


So frail they are with sincerity
Yet battered with infidelity


So I turn my back to the lies and madness
And trap my thoughts in the canvas


So Smooth


No Grooves


To get lost in.


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