Falsehood

There's two narratives at play , one to be true , the other subjectively false ,
But when all fails , I'll burry the nail into my neck ,
Sign a painting in my blood ,
Because it's for the art , I say , but it's an excuse to act like a child.

There's a story in my head , it has a protagonist and his best friend ,
Mission to destroy the narrator ,
Slice his vocal chords from his neck ,
Because the truth is what kills , because ignorance is bliss , and how I want it.

I'll share you a story of a boy , stuck in a mans body , tortured , self loathing scum,

With the talent to fulfill his every desire , waisted to thought of what if and why ,
Cause his self esteem is lower than the average intelligence of the world ,
So he draws straws and snorts his agony away through the pill dust of anger.

He's trapped in the illusion of a faulty brain with a switch to become an almighty b***h,
So he bends backwards , watches the world walk over to his shoulders , so he can lift them up ,
Only to walk away with a broken spine , and a fractured self worth.

But he's hiding a secret , buried so deep , he can't access the truth ,
But his eyes show more than they know ,
The worlds travelled to find love , only to be left with a blood filled chest.

Because life is one riddled puzzle of blood ,
Only to be locked up by the question marks of whys and how's ,
But when the roses blemish , the souls tarnish , the eyes water , the clouds smile ,
Because death is the answer to all questions, since it's the answer to life