[Split Eight]

Originally Posted by something

A caricature in characters. Words. Did I inherit a curse.
So much more to writing in a journal than what my parents observed.
A dissection of essence. Impressed with the narratives curves.
How I could manipulate the page and your merits, in turn.

Paint the picture's dawn
with razor fitted jaws, serrated riddled claws
and a shade that sits too long? You may not wake today at all.
I'm trapped between the lines. Life's a dialog. A lie I write in songs.
I lie at night and talk to the rhymes and lines I've drawn.
They call themselves people, astounding, 'cause they don't know my easel
is see through and makes up their surroundings.

unreal

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