How can you expect somebody to redeem your soul when you don’t even know what it is made of? Your brain is a liar, a deceiver of your own identity
He made doubt the best of your friends, holding your hand as his grip tightened around your neck, You lost who you were and you wander this heart with a mask that portrays an hopeless facade
Your past feels like a lie, a deceit you orchestrated only to avoid pain, But it felt so true and delightful to be all in vain
So what is reality and what is deception, This mind feels like a maze of self deprecation.