Your visible physical impression
Your actions and self-expression
The public sees and gages you
So, they thought they knew.
In your interior, silently it grew
It was that self-invisible, the shrew
The one shielded from public view
Yes, there were two sides to you.
It is composed of flimsy tinder and frame,
It needed only a little spark to leap aflame
Kindred, the latent timid spirit turned a matador
Baying for blood and gore, ready to settle a score.
The real you with your bloody finger
That squeezed the self-destruct trigger
Then, the silence was perversely covert
And the air solemn and somberly overt.
You were a man on a mission of martyrdom
Touched by the dark alleys of your kingdom
For you, victory was in death, bloody death
Your subconscious is buried in filth and dirt.
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