quarta-feira, 16 de setembro de 2026

ricocheting pieces of myself

 I met them at the door suspicious faces
Questioning
The padding of pockets to locate keys and phone
None were on me

I panicked I had no way of explaining myself
Their eyes grew heavy with suspicion
Out they went to see what I was playing at
My sins hidden at the grand hotel

The fact that I as a simple man
had learned the most heinous of magic
For I could and did shapeshift
To fill every need and whim inside my mind

There was not one simple man behind the face
But several all in search of their own versions of completeness
So when I slid the sliding door and witnessed their faces
I simply reverted to the person they knew in me

The one with no color or guile
The one that monosyllabically answered questions
Encouraged that part of me to enjoy it while it lasted
For that part was the part I liked least



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