Tongue In Chic

The truth is repulsive, utter imperfection

Impulsive urges carelessly lain on the unsuspecting victim

Gracefully tear open the vulnerable

Vicious thoughts carried out with a dormant mind

Tell me what you see, because these eyes know

Tastelessly disposed with no remorse

When you come to point your finger

Now you’ll find all 4 are pointing back

When speeches are worthless and thoughts are senseless

Hushed voices drown you out

Listen to me when I say I am not afraid to say this

Exposed for what you are, you are numb and void

And I am sick to death anyway

Always amounting to apology

When you are proven guilty

Yet allowed to move freely

Now I am seeing clearly

Oh now how the plot thickens

As I am crawling like a fog

Then away I drift

Not only dismissed

I swear I quit