Mistake after mistake, colder I grow,
Isolated by my own distrust and disbelieve,
Wrong judgement, wrong call,
Is my perception lacking?
Rerolling all the old tapes of cringe moments,
Torturing myself.
...
This life of movie black-and-white,
These series of bad scenes,
There is no writer nor director,
Improv went wrong:
-no notes, no feedback.
The stage is dark, the curtains fall
The room is silent, I am at fault?
If the comedy is not landing,
If the joke is misunderstood again
Am I the one to blame?
…
But the life is far from being some type of comedy,
Let’s get real – it is the tragedy of every soul
Is the loneliness of being authentic?
The irony of being honest,
Wearing all of who you are proudly on your sleeve.
And when they are done studying you;
The horror sets in motion –
Nightmare of the Genuine Soul
Being mocked, and kicked; forgotten, a backup plan;
The one who is always there when they are needed,
Tossed away when everything is fine.
…
And after all the sadness comes the time of the psycho-thriller
Where you are the main villain with amazing arch
And all the stupid heroes try to make you pay
For what they have created,
Blinded by the Main
Character Complex of another's life.
And yes, I live in my Villain Era, why should I be
ashamed?
When every action got its consequence,
And every hero follows stupid human path
Without realizing how their view is so fucked up.
…
Life is not a movie nor a stage piece to kill an
hour or two.
Be careful when you write on someone else’s pages.
You are not as powerful narrator as you think,
You are a just temporary phase.
Because someone is gracious
To let you have their spot light.
