In a corridor of mouth and ears
Speaking things out of eyes they lack
Hurtful, in the absence of fear
Like they have enough up in stacks
Getting judged by those I do not know
Or by those who I thought knew me
I see you and heard what you said about me
But I don't worry about August of snow
We don't vibe and it hurts you to admit it
You rather says things and hurt those close to me
Oh saint who has never has a dirt slate
Oh judge who has never declared a sentence of late
My life is like a thousand pages on a yearly verse
And you could claim to know me but have no clue
A lost soul I am and I don't bother
Friendships are submarines, they always go under.
Sometimes I come to terms that I am all I've got
And stop holding people to the stake for not understanding
If my life was a fictional, I would be a snowman in a volcano
People at my back, standing, while some are at my back, stabbing.
But I know these corridor spit when they talk
Rumours of who I am flying at night
Your hate for me is a vigilante, I am the sun
So it is safe to say, you are only bold at night.
About the Creator
Harydo Neon
I drain my thoughts through my pen. That's the only way I breathe.
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