Category: /General/Retired as a martyr
Laid out on the road
Believing myself to be anointed
As something special
When I was just playing the victim
Longing for sympathy
A discarded sense of self.
Tightest of shoulders
Darkest of eyes
Lying to myself
All the while being a doormat
Believing I had nothing to offer
Tiniest speck of the universe
The curse of oppression.
The heart pumping
Poisoned blood to an empty
Of a hollow soul
Older than the age
Either stuck in reverse
Or trying to walk again
I have to search for those past successes
Breathe fully in harmony with the present
As the wounds heal
The real face metamorphosing.
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