Was it all just a joke to you?
Your own life?
Was it just another magic trick?
Evaporating and slowly fading away?
Sometimes I would like to scream at you.
Again, but nothing sticks.
There are times when I believe you.
But you always regress.
I don’t know you at all.
Lived with you for years.
I have no idea who you are.
And neither do you.
That must hurt.
I can feel it too.
You are like a fountain.
Everyone closest is wet, you’re out of control.
I’m not drowning anymore.
I try to believe in something good,
Someone good within you.
But he is a liar with a million voices.
What you do to me is real.
How you make me feel.
Small, falling apart, enraged and hopeless.
And that’s when I see him, for just a split second,
The one holding all of your wheels.
“Portrait of a Woman” by Maurycy Gottlieb (1856-1879)