On Empty

Take a look at my vitality
Using words to mask an illusion that has fathered me and left
Bastard credentials
Could define me, but I only try to show the best
Of a character that never was me
Never will be
One that you were never even supposed to see
But I use it as my energy, countering a tank that was born on E
So I make it through each day
Mind gassed but soul even more incomplete
Eyes fixed on ceiling, back is floor ridden
Throw some daggers out, keep the holsters in my kitchen
Grenades in my pocket, target has been set
Aiming at the ground, no need for practice in my version of Russian roulette
Perfectly aimed, but still can’t make contact
Gift and a curse of a disguise that holds lies inside and pain on the outs
Underneath it all, body lays lifeless
Never knowing what ups and downs are about
That’s why the words are glossy and the structure is well planned
But the man behind the veil can never be had
Or caught, or felt
Destroyed, or willed
To come out of a cage he knows too much about
If you feel nothing when you read these words
No emotions, no familiarity
Know that the man with the pen has tried everything to connect to the stance he is in
But no rush, or surge
Blood riddled with insulin
If you hear nothing
Then you know my voice and you see me
You feel me

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