dreams are the poets subconscious mutterings, this left the man on the moon warbling out his grief for he had been shot in the temple by a passing asteroid with a vendetta impossible to resolve.
The discovery of the self is a road less travelled. Only by those cast there for life and reality to educate, breaking pride and arrogance. Finding out the trials and tribulations of relationships, what makes one react the way they do and how to survive on this road less travelled.
You see their cracked faces underneath their porcelain facades, The mirror lies even when smashed, showing multiple shards of their soul, Reptilian tears corrode my judgement but strengthens my sense of judgement and justice, Their superficialness drips into my ears and corrupts my mind, stealing logic and replacing it with a fresh callousness, Yet while I must appear naive and senseless, inside I am forced to be an adult, wiser and cautious to their tricks. I will not be a whore to their dishonesty, disrespect and disloyalty.
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