Sandpaper Arms

Look at you, dancing on your pedestal, trying to seem like you know it all without seeming like you have it all. I see you spilling your guts under hidden text and code names. Accusing people of privilege before looking them in the eye. How can you, when just jeers peer down below? To me, there is no coherence of the lines, nothing that stitches you to your fantasy, and in the end … it’s just abhorrence. Your arms prickle with savagery; can you do anything but tear people apart? I have seen your truths in the glow in the dark nights of silent reconstruction. You observe and analyze but keep denying that you feel. You can’t have the best of both prejudices. Don’t pretend you’re beyond the pervasiveness of human sin, while wondering why all those you beguiled don’t love you beyond your tapestry. Look at you, a tragedy tripping over your own feet. And there is just silent destruction as you fall to those you scorned in your elitist ravaging.