ode to my nonexistent psychiatrist

Thu, 03/22/2018 - 16:30 -- stik13

you hide behind funhouse mirrors

standing in my image

the ticking of time bombs

competing with your smile

as your tongue twists

and spins lies around my name

the tinted glass you hide behind

all two-way windows

and metallic frames

the taste of rust heavy in the air

while the people wonder

with bloodshot eyes

when this will all be over

 

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