Please don't change my old soul.
Insecurity tends to pulse
Through people's veins.
The image of perfection
Contiues to flash through their minds,
Like a broken record playing.
They stalk their minds and emotions
Of those who are innocent,
And lure them into false identities.
They trap them
In an inescapeable maze
Of falsehoods and lies.
Insecurity toys with their brains
And makes them believe
They must lie
To themselves and others.
"You will be hated"
"You will be exiled"
"You will be outcast from this world"
Blind leading the blind.
Deaf preaching the deaf.
Mute ordering the mute.
Nonsense makes sense,
In the minds of them.
Nonsense makes nonsense,
In the mind of us.
We watch them
Be taken like pray
And dwindle to nothing,
In the maze of falsehoods and lies.
We sometimes cannot make contact with them
And our last goodbye was unexpected.
I swam around their lure for years,
Confused at why they would use
Such ridiculous bait.
I nibbled a few times,
But it tasted wretched on my tongue.
My friends bit it, achieved it,
Not knowing it,
And were dragged
By that horrible waste.
They slowly pulled apart their soul,
Piece by piece,
Until it had been reformed
Into that decieving insecurity
With the haunt
Of perfection and desire.
Shattered,
Crumbled,
Crushed,
Burnt,
Changed.
Changed to a monster
Hidden behind
Of a smile.