the cynical nature of your philosophies
makes a cylindrical mess of my parallel
my ideas begin to wane
nobody would take the blame
like droplets of rain
you fill my emptiness with your bane
to please you is now my chore
i hide behind your big picture
myself, my worth, that once was scripture
but by your philosophies, made impure,
all of it, i’m shedding off
acquiring your genuine superficial
if only you know, you’re building a missile
that will send you into exile
out there were oblivion thrive
by the grueling test you put me through
that revealed white lies in your black truth
the cynical nature of your philosophies
made a cylindrical mess of my parallel
but your hold on me is wearing out
my prison break is at hand
and this curve shall be straight, again
