Through My Eyes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
see the world through my filter

Submitted: April 03, 2017

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Submitted: April 03, 2017

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The passion fluctuates more than the NASDAQ,

A flood of ideas one day, and then a California drought the next.

Lines continued to blur the longer it went on,

The numbers grew in unison with my complex.

I can’t tell what I love more: the creation or the attention,

On a global stage, I can make you all turn and listen.

There’s meaning in everything if you look for it,

But I feel like no one’s really reading what I’ve written.

These words are a vessel into my psyche,

So that you can maybe take a look how I see the world through my eyes.

I think the meaning and the message got lost somewhere along the line,

When instead of telling my story, I instead forced you to sympathize.

I’m not even gonna deny that I’m addicted to the attention,

Pretty soon the numbers dictated my mood for that week.

Every positive comment inflated my ego as big as Jupiter,

If you look through it all, you won’t even find a single critique.

I never complain about traffic, if it’s coming to my page,

Cause when I was on top, it wasn’t talent, it was riding a wave.

If it was all a dream you can’t bet I wasn’t checking my audemars,

I didn’t ever want to wake up, where I always have one foot in the grave.

Shit felt like I was on vacation and I couldn’t get enough of it,

Once it started to feel like work then all the joy just left my soul.

Nothing left but an empty husk churning out obviously bad content,

Felt just like taking a shit and looking over to see an empty toilet roll.

It was all uninspired and fake as fuck,

And I still can’t really bring myself to read it back.

The biggest one trick pony you’ll ever see, success is not maintained,

If something that I put out busts, I suddenly become an amnesiac.

 

 

Biggest thing to know is never take anything I say as fact,

Lots of true stories, but if you ask for more detail, I’ll break out the doublespeak.

Everyone I talk with gets a different side of me, I’m acting like I’m tough as nails,

Until I come online and show everyone that I’m actually pretty fucking weak.

My face is blank as printer paper, trying to make sure no one can read me,

If just one person finds out, then the persona falls apart.

My personal space is just like America, no one’s invaded it,

Predicted your every move, don’t try to get close, I’ve already got a head start.

Only person in the world that has no identity, my birth certificate, driver’s license,

School ID and social security have information, and the photo even looks like me.

That shit is worthless, nothing but physical and arbitrary identification,

Even if everything syncs up, I still feel like a nobody.

Sense of identity is fragmented like an ancient artifact,

Buried the pieces so deep it takes a thousand years to discover.

The inciting incident shattered my mind until it was nearly dust,

And I still have yet to fully recover.

Facade is busted and cracked like old pipes,

Strong feelings slip out and begin to show.

It’s in my blind spot, invisible to only me,

They can see it from a mile away, like an albino.

Sometimes people tell me that I’m not acting like myself,

If I don’t know myself, how can I not act like myself?

Trying to search for my identity is like looking for a book

In the Library of Congress, but everything's on the wrong shelf.

 

 

Entropy is the law of the land in my existence,

Things change faster than the human mind can process.

Like how one minute I finish the marathon first place,

Then the next I can’t even finish, cause I always regress

Can’t ever get to the nitty gritty right off the bat,

If everything’s not presented perfect, I won’t be satisfied.

I drop people when they’re not useful, just like a pallbearer,

You know I’m finished when I turn around, so you can kiss my backside.

That’s the same tactic I always slam others for,

These are people we’re talking about, not fucking tools.

Be the first one standing up when I find injustice,

But then quietly turn my back and break those same fucking rules.

I’m a hypocrite because I don’t practice what I preach,

No different from internet hoes who say they love Jesus.

The same tactics that I condemn, I’ll be sure to use against you,

That’s when you find out the whole time, I was being facetious.

Before I knew how you looked, I told you that you gave me arrhythmia,

One look at you and my story flipped upside down like the Fresh Prince.

Edited the text file to say that shit was drug induced,

It’s not the truth, but the fuck it, that’s the story I’ve told ever since.

Only tough and braggadocious behind a screen or someone’s back,

I’ll talk so much shit but never come outside, so I can say it to your face.

If you even heard half the things I said about you,

Our friendship would be fucked up like a hacked database.

I should do what you did, and drop my standards

So low that they tunnel through the earth and end up in China.

Shit, I know I’m dying alone, I don’t like it but I’ve accepted it,

And when it’s all said and done, I’ll be remembered as a social pariah.

 

 

No matter what I do, no one will fully listen,

I feel like I have to do some crazy shit to get someone’s attention.

Like walk into work and knock my manager unconscious,

Or do something that’s way beyond comprehension.

It’s all expertly hidden behind dark humor,

Only way that I cope with the circumstances around me.

Everything has truth behind it, but these niggas are all blind,

They won’t see it until it’s too late, when I’m hanging from a cherry tree.

Just like a good joke, there’s truth behind everything,

It falls on deaf ears, cause it’s easier to talk then it is to listen.

Feigning ignorance is easier than accepting fault, I know that well,

That’s why my life story got filled with exaggerations and black box omissions.

 

 

Those numbers I love so much as displayed every time I log on,

I find my checking them six times a day, my brand new obsession.

You’ll never get down this far, I know you got bored halfway through,

And it won’t perform well, and that’ll cause unnecessary aggression.

I can’t tell you what I’m searching for, I don’t even know it myself,

Being the best for just a short time isn’t good enough.

Craving that sustained success just to feel something at all,

Took six months off, found out how much I had to grow up.

The real question is where the line between hobby and business is,

Passion or no passion, the all mighty dollar is in control of my life.

I need money now, lots of it, and as fast as the Flash can run,

Only thing I care about is being rich, way more important than finding a wife.

I’m depressed as fuck and haunted by suicidal thoughts,

Either way I’m still depressed, but I’d rather be depressed and rich.

It’s easier to cry in a Lamborghini Aventador with the suicide doors,

Wiping my tears with benjamin's, before I take a dive off the Brooklyn Bridge.

I could lie and tell you that it’s all fiction and it won’t happen,

But there’s red flags everywhere, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

If this the last thing that I’ll ever write, you’ll know I put everything into it,

And every time I picked up a pen, I never wore a disguise.

 


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