Post by grgur on Jun 29, 2010 22:58:52 GMT -5
|Title| Metamorphosis
|Theme| Casting away your imperfections and coming to terms with things, I suppose.
|Rating| Nothing disturbing by my eye.
|Criticism| Critique as you see fit, I'm a big boy, I'm not gonna go crying about it.
This misconception that I'm fine, how you sicken me with the jest.
Teetering on the edge of absolution from my sins,
Like a new born child void of his past existence.
Memories of what I once was, the recognition of my deeds,
The purging of my consciousness as I become yet another one of the mindless mannequins,
My transformation into a human from a moth,
The rebirth of something so dirty, tainting the life that could have been,
Ripping at the cocoon that encases me, this sweltering womb made of insulation tape and feathers, my dreams wont save me this either time will they?
It seems I cannot hide from my destiny, to bare the weight of all the victims, and have my spine ground into dust from it.
I gnaw at the bit and struggle to tear the seams of my bindings, only to find myself trapped in youth again.
I could have slept through the aimless conversations and the list of plausible excuses that I now need would have never been devised.
Though I am little more than a facade put on to amuse the spectators,
Come, laugh at my disguise, dance to the sounds of my whelping, I'll prostrate myself for your enjoyment once again. God only knows I love it really.
Give me a knowing smile and I'll suck away your innocence, swallow it down and finish you off like only I can,
I'm nothing more than a vessel, the harvester of all your spite, so fill me up, if you can.
You only humor me for fear that you are next on the list of those I owe suffering,
So drop the bull shit, it's not welcome here anymore,
I've taken it all so far and I'll continue to do so, so why must i put up with the rhetoric?
I'll tie them down, I'll scrape away at their flesh, I'll continue to lustfully gaze upon the forbidden fruit.
It'll never change, so give up on making me see the error of my ways.
You are simply one among the filth that absolves me, then declares me imperfect only to once again demand I uphold your image of the perfect man.
Mutated beyond my own recognition, who is this charming devil that I see in the mirror?
His long brown locks, the deep hazel eyes, tan skin that bears fine hairs, scented like he just emerged from a Turkish harem.
It's a monster! i swear it's not me, I'd never allow myself to succumb to the normality of it all.
This warped image of Adonis, the raped and mutilated soul, shallow and insecure and laid so bare for others to see.
It'll only end in misery, so why try to become the butterfly that flutters gracefully above the emerald leaves of the fields?
I'll not live long, so why should I aim for something so glorious?
I sold my dreams of such a future long before I had this form, long before I had this brain, this body.
The black lace and frills laid out upon the bed sheets, I had my dream fulfilled.
Now all that remains is to become the larvae again, and return to the flame that shines like a beacon for those about to evolve.
|Theme| Casting away your imperfections and coming to terms with things, I suppose.
|Rating| Nothing disturbing by my eye.
|Criticism| Critique as you see fit, I'm a big boy, I'm not gonna go crying about it.
This misconception that I'm fine, how you sicken me with the jest.
Teetering on the edge of absolution from my sins,
Like a new born child void of his past existence.
Memories of what I once was, the recognition of my deeds,
The purging of my consciousness as I become yet another one of the mindless mannequins,
My transformation into a human from a moth,
The rebirth of something so dirty, tainting the life that could have been,
Ripping at the cocoon that encases me, this sweltering womb made of insulation tape and feathers, my dreams wont save me this either time will they?
It seems I cannot hide from my destiny, to bare the weight of all the victims, and have my spine ground into dust from it.
I gnaw at the bit and struggle to tear the seams of my bindings, only to find myself trapped in youth again.
I could have slept through the aimless conversations and the list of plausible excuses that I now need would have never been devised.
Though I am little more than a facade put on to amuse the spectators,
Come, laugh at my disguise, dance to the sounds of my whelping, I'll prostrate myself for your enjoyment once again. God only knows I love it really.
Give me a knowing smile and I'll suck away your innocence, swallow it down and finish you off like only I can,
I'm nothing more than a vessel, the harvester of all your spite, so fill me up, if you can.
You only humor me for fear that you are next on the list of those I owe suffering,
So drop the bull shit, it's not welcome here anymore,
I've taken it all so far and I'll continue to do so, so why must i put up with the rhetoric?
I'll tie them down, I'll scrape away at their flesh, I'll continue to lustfully gaze upon the forbidden fruit.
It'll never change, so give up on making me see the error of my ways.
You are simply one among the filth that absolves me, then declares me imperfect only to once again demand I uphold your image of the perfect man.
Mutated beyond my own recognition, who is this charming devil that I see in the mirror?
His long brown locks, the deep hazel eyes, tan skin that bears fine hairs, scented like he just emerged from a Turkish harem.
It's a monster! i swear it's not me, I'd never allow myself to succumb to the normality of it all.
This warped image of Adonis, the raped and mutilated soul, shallow and insecure and laid so bare for others to see.
It'll only end in misery, so why try to become the butterfly that flutters gracefully above the emerald leaves of the fields?
I'll not live long, so why should I aim for something so glorious?
I sold my dreams of such a future long before I had this form, long before I had this brain, this body.
The black lace and frills laid out upon the bed sheets, I had my dream fulfilled.
Now all that remains is to become the larvae again, and return to the flame that shines like a beacon for those about to evolve.