Guilty conscience

At your doorstep there’s a mat
I wipe my muddy shoes with
If there was ever gum that stuck
I would smile at the nylon and you would call me delusional

It’s like zebras hugging each other
With the intention of blending in
To their stripes
Only to find
That to each its own

However obvious it may sound
Hazel is neither gold, and wise, nor green and new
It’s nature feeling unapologetic for, experimenting with power and its genes.

How iconic is a knife to the hands that slay
Existing in between excuses for the slain
Dreams given and killed by the same hands
Enslaved in this pursuit for freedom, ‘Dulce et Decorum est’

But like a lie, within a lie, within another lie
Trust built on brick and not foundation, was sold
Bargained for a clean soul, caged in for another smudge to rub
That only grew bigger with each flip of a page, a guilty conscience needing no accuser.

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Published by

S.K.

This right here, keeps me sane. You will find here, sincere thoughts mixed up with a subconscious trying to fuck it all up. I hope you understand.

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