Familiarity in a face, a voice.
Someone I’m almost sure I knew before.
I don’t understand not really.
The need and want to hold your hand.
Are you a narcissist?
Plastering an image of your very fine physical structure...
The body carved by artist hands,
Hands like yours.
The ones you change led with,
The ones you smudge and erase with.
Hands that encase my own cold purple hands.
Warming them.
And we aren’t so different!
Are we?
Debating on politics and religion,
Your scream about humanity like it’s something that’s gonna save me.
When I blame it on the very reason earth is dying.
But while you wear your scars barefaced,
I hide mine deep.
 
Denying there is any flaw.
Is clearly a facade for us.
Denying at all.
That anything could be wrong.
I find it funny!
How we both appear I’m sure online to most,
As something magical!
Something so breathtaken,
You fear to touch it!
But really deep down,
I think you are just as broken as I am.
Class,
Money,
Social standing,
Means nothing,
When you are  sick and angry.
 
And I think I’m interested and intrigued cause you aren’t anything IV ever had.
My own stupidity around you,
Makes me angry at myself.
Half doubtful,
If you even understand.
How hard I work to keep up conversation on my end,
Not for my own lack of intelligence but for the fact I rarely use it anymore.
For the fact my Brains been through war.
And while I decay,
You grow and glow.
 
Thoting on,
Like you do.
 
Artist/model
Made you...

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