Cirque

If I am going to die,

I am going to die victorious 

nestled deep in the rotten ribcage of the fever that keeps me afloat.

 

Seen from a distance,

philanthropist mercenary, 

In reality,

banal tragedy shared with countless generations. 

 

Words leave long bloody marks wherever they fall,

Drenched in war paint 

fit to suck the nonsense from your dirty heart,

 

Are you interested in a manufactured personality?

 

Nothing but the lies to live for,

I do not exist when I am not observed.

The End

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