A pathological liar,
I'm bound by restriction;
For who am I, cursed with such sin?
In the looking glass, I find contradiction,
Reflection a marred by darkness within.

A visage, cold and calculating,
Eyes void of remorse, devoid of grace,
A soul that thrives on manipulating,
Wearing masks to conceal thy true face.

Behind this facade, a twisted mind,
A labyrinth of secrets, concealed desires,
I dance on edges, no trails to find;
Leaving victims broken, consumed by fires.

I revel in chaos, a master of deceit;
Crafting illusions, spinning webs to all sides.
With every whispered word, I take a seat,
Controlling hearts, while intention hides.

Deep within this fractured mirror,
An emptiness screams, a voice so loud,
A yearning for someone so similar,
Yet drowning it out, my heart disavowed.

Oh, the torment of self-awareness,
Haunted by shadows of what is to come,
The psychopath's burden, a relentless darkness,
A silent battle, never won.

For what is it that I truly seek?
A redemption lost, a glimpse of light?
Or merely a game, an endless streak,
Of power and control, in the dead of night?

I question my existence, my twisted fate,
The moral compass shattered, beyond repair,
I am the product of a broken state,
A paradox, a psychopath's snare.

Here I stand, a glimpse of my reflection,
Bound by chains of my own design,
A journey within, a search for direction,
Perhaps a glimmer of hope, to this once misalign.

I'm a pathological liar, forever confined,
To the depths of my own self-deception.
Yearning to break free, to leave it all behind,
To find redemption in my soul's resurrection.

Until that day dawns upon my soul,
I'll traverse in darkness, through shadows I tread.
A psychopath's journey, always pays a toll,
In the mirror's reflection, my true self lies dead.

© Quiet Winter