His body faintly wafts, With the scent of future demise. His mouth is filled with the chewed taste, Of an ancient curry persuasion. His smile deceptively plans, Upon whose forehead to paint. His eyes sparkle with the reflection of, An evil not seen in his outward persona.
He talks, he laughs, yet no one knows. He's crying, he's praying, yet it's still hopeless. Who said, it can, become clear. Communication, useless, I can't hear anything at all.
This is the kingdom of self-talk - welcome! In here, talking nonsense is the norm. Here, you'll find people who don't belong and from all walks of life. Here, we don't listen to others nor separate day and night.
He wrote a novel series, That he claims came from the heavens. His shouting drew a crowd, Who assumed it was most valuable. They clutched at the vocabulary of love, Yet their soul has majestically run dry. Even face to face, They cannot even have a little understanding.
When did they forget their name? Since when could they see themselves in their eyes? When did they get trapped here? Since when did they lose their ability to listen? Two selves putting on a mask. The exterior speaks more beautifully than sings. The interior even the self cannot see clearly.