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.

Maurycy_Gottlieb_-_Portrait_of_a_Woman_1878

“Portrait of a Woman” by Maurycy Gottlieb (1856-1879)

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