Deviance in my sight.
Fake it. Fake it until you feel it,
but how can I feel anything when
all I ever see in those deep eyes is
emptiness. An object of requirement
tossed aside once used. One, two three,
tweak, one, two, three, tweak. All that
matters is you hit your peek.
I’m an unexplored discarded vessel
that you perceive as a genie in the lamp,
two rubs, pink smoke fills the room
and your wish is my command.
Fake it, fake it until you believe it.
I am, I am, I am, I am!
I am all that you created for
this i’m sure you are elated.
My reflection is without image, my eye’s
without spirit, my body without
passion, tweak it, tweak it
the latest line in loves new fashion.
I am, I am, I am. Fake it, fake it until
you believe it.
See past the indiscressant
behaviour, look through the emptiness,
search for the reflection, discard the
golden bands of possession and find it.
Before a lack of passion devours your
soul for eternity.
Karen Hayward © 2015