I'm unsure why, today of places,
It's been so long, almost ages,
But the long ache inside still lingers.
Am I a puppet for all of your fingers?

Confronted again by shameless baby eyes,
"He knows much better now, he never cries!
Look, whip him three times, no less no more!
Then you'll see no tears fall, not anymore!"

Place me in a mirror show me my pain,
There's no suffering, just shame.
The surface is washed but empty,
Buckets and buckets, shame of plenty.

Nobody ever missed the man in glass,
Well... some did, But he was far too crass,
Too crass to ever notice, to see what's in front,
For he was still falling, and she ruined his stunt.

Abide by her round eyes and soft lips,
Before you strike your hand firm on her hips,
Because even if you got your only desire,
You'd see her bare, and how you were the liar.

© ManWithoutSelf