In borrowed visage on the stage,
All see my flargrant disguise
But concealed behind the everyman
None see my 'Mr. Hyde'
I lost myself in search to find
Something else to hide behind
And now I find I'm trapped inside
This labyrinthine mind
I've tried the truth a thousand times
And come back to pretend
Though Kierkegaard may prove me wrong
These lies I will defend.
All my words are memories,
Once spoken, already past,
And every word I'll ever speak
Ozymandias will outlast
You think I've taken off the mask
I wear equivocally,
But I've found a face you've never seen
And now that mask is me.
"Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us; nowhere do they touch upon absolute truth."
interesting...
ReplyDeleteI like it... I think it could use a bit of work on the form, but still interesting