Upon idle reflection my thoughts contradict
Upon further inspection, they ramble and rave
Upon every inflection personal thoughts they inflict
Upon casual rejection they save
Yet they embody me, and my own chaotic state
The creativity that ebbs but refuses to abate
And the lies of my thoughts and my words are a truth
When their meaning distorts in a matter uncouth
I’ve worn many faces, and wear many still
As one said once to me before
I do not wear my emotions upon tattered sleeve
It is pain that this face will ignore
Though my condition is fine, it is not in the slightest
I am in flux with equilibrium, in balance
I go every which way in rejection to what I say
And yet in a single spot is where I will stay
So while my forced cheer becomes the mask that I wear
While the face laments time so far gone
I embody the fool, mechanized fate’s tool
And to this world, I say “BRING IT ON!”
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