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Stop harboring/ masking my demons

by Timothy Wilson

Every Hydrogen molecule that rides the curved surfaces of your eyes
Yes, it’s aimed at me and me directly for the kill

At dinner time we sat in hand-lock
In a ring, on the spot, and you lied in the face of your family, yourself, and your God
Worst of all you lied to us

But disregarding your trivial epic let down I grimace spitefully inside
I like to close the door as to not bleed in front of loved ones
Why don’t you try that next time when you're choking down steak to chase your guilt from surfacing

07/07/2011

Posted on 07/08/2011
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Wilson

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