Friday, April 29, 2011

The Game

It eats at my soul
The cannibalistic nature of a self
Destruction and reform they call it
Destroy and destroy again

Red eyes to absolve my sin
Or I wish it were so
Regret tinged breaths
Shells and masks and shelves

The plague spreads
Or have all been previously infected?
My wound is yours
Our injury: my fault

Mingle amongst the guests
Dressed up in costumes much like my own
Share in the play
Share in the death

Bite your own hand if it feeds you
Break the finger that guides you
Hide the light or hide the black
Depending on where you are

The shadow stands so tall
Only cast by the sun at my back
Turn around you fool

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