ONYMOUS

...

I guess this story isn't going to end.

I tried, yet I just need to survive;

My integrity, my love, my respect.

Thirty days is still like a day old.

Now feel like putting the mask on,

And be like I wasn't yet born.

Yet, each day I quit being strong,

Each day I'm proved being wrong.

I heard them saying, they say, I say;

The words that come out of my mouth,

Are always put on a scale,

Those I speak not are put on charge.

Oh God!, I need thee as Judge;

For that burdens me seems so large.

I wish I could hide the sticks that beat the gong;

I wish I could hold the beak that sings the song.

Although I live an onymous,

I dance not to its tune;

So be!

Now, feel like putting the mask on,

And be like I wasn't yet born.

For each day I quit being strong,

Each day I'm proved being wrong.

...

The silent voice of a thought,

When not realise into words,

Yet loud in the ears;

What then lies in the eyes of he who lies?

…

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