how much of this is a masquerade?
how much of this is a tell tale heart?
does winning really mean that much?
is it so special that walls will crumble?
the watchman stays in the same spot
the passing becomes him and the time a constant
the sidelines stay warm and lived in
he stakes his claim
he settles in and to his throne he’s grateful
he’s distant enough and just close, my friends
to dish out his sizzle and slime
punishing himself, light of lime
his insides, they rot
his outsides are not
anything he can recognize
so he points and he laughs
sure as he can
to make you remember his words
the secret, I know it
this is how he shows it
in treachery vile and poison
a wish and a dream
a night long ago it seems
for the center lead
the ring of the steed
but guts and glory
he never did welcome
the boldness came
and he scared it away
in moments of small
afraid of the fall
distrust of his own self genius
a story I wish
was different than this
but these are the words that flowed…
