I walk counting pebbles.
I’m discrete so my shadow is not strangled.
I’m not really a fan of locking eyes.
When I do, I end-up locking horns.
No one has the capacity to dismantle me.
My own expectations are enough.
I’m cursed for I see-through.
I’m cursed for I say truth.
I’m doomed for no one wants to be known as real them.
Every soul here has something to hide.
I cannot control when I shatter walls.
When I try, I’m quickly locked inside them.
We’re enough alone, only to destroy ourselves.
We function better dependently.
But it’s hard to know the truth, see the truth,
and pretend to believe in lies.
I’m worst when in control.
I’m worst when I’m cold.
I’m doomed for no one wants to know real me.
Every soul here has something to hide, but I.