You’ve got no sanity to bruise,
For you forgot to come around
From that destructive self-abuse,
That left you inches from the ground.

You preach redemption to the sinners,
And lead the blind on their own path
When you in fact are just a killer,
A burdened shelf all wrapped in wrath.

And your menial way of ailing,
For odds that bring a better day,
Gives you no right to make them cope
With your poor simulated way.

As you stand tall the hole grows deeper
A cliché trashing what is fair…
Who bullies first if not the weaker?
Who speaks of love but doesn’t care?

You let them grip a steady hand,
And see the hero flash and bone,
But who will be there to defend,
Once that your cover up gets blown?

For you go home-the play is over,
And right after you close the door
You lose the skill of acting sober
And end up crying on the floor.

But still a person always sees,
And tears the mask upon your face
The evil twin who disagrees,
With your pathetic loss of grace.

He watches every move you make,
And whispers things you hate to hear
He always brings up your mistakes,
And laughs until you burst in tears.

And what you put up for display,
It’s nothing but a sad reflection
Of what you crave for everyday…
The leading act of your rejection.

The actor plays to express moods,
But you play only to deceive
To cut them open, burn the roots,
To try to make yourself believe.