there is an alien
in the reflection
of their minds
through the eyes
they try to hide
from my wandering gaze
the madness they inagine
dripping down my veins
escapes and gathers
in blue-black puddles
at my feet
it grows up & over me
like a beaten second skin
to satisfy the idea
of who they think i am
in the reflection
of their minds
through the eyes
they try to hide
from my wandering gaze
the madness they inagine
dripping down my veins
escapes and gathers
in blue-black puddles
at my feet
it grows up & over me
like a beaten second skin
to satisfy the idea
of who they think i am