Maybe,

This is a paradox,

A paradigm full of words

that flick off your tongue,

 

Lies, judgement, mutiny,

A song without beats,

melody,

pitch,

bitch.

 

You could be anyone,

My mother,

My father,

My man,

A juggernaut of depravity,

quicksand

that is pulling me in.

A beautiful body filled with

lice

and mice.

 

You are death in the cloak of perfection,

resolution

and forgiveness.

 

 

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