Clear

And as you twisted the face of your past,
Blotting out deep socket eyes,
Stretching back lips and sharpening teeth,
Did you feel the moment when the features hardened
To mask under your fingers,
The body beneath crumbled?

Truth is a function of your martyrdom,
The shockwaves of your outrage bend and snap
Sore green shoots of life
Dried into voodoo needles
Splintered in flesh of enemies,
Shaped into riding crops
To flagellate yourself
And force your scars on your lovers.

You don't know I'm still watching,
Looking up from the darkness at your whole flashy drama,
Once hero, then villain
I fell from your web of culprits and victims and audience-saviours,
And I could crush it on my palm.