silhouette
silhouette: the outline of an object
its crazy how so many people have a different outline than their solid inside. Its things like that that worry me. an outline is all one can see of a person. no one can really know someone beyond their silhouette. even if they "open-up" or "reveal" to you. whatever they say that may convince a person is still their silhouette. and there is no way of telling if the silhouette is a lie or not. its really a game of chance to believe a silhouette of a person. and thats the only way a person can get to know someone else. we are all just outlines. what is on our insides may be told but then again it can just be another game of the joker. there honestly is no way to tell because everyone is an actor of their own suit.
And your eyes, speaking in tongues.
Vigilant still, filling my lungs.
Testing my will.
They leave me broken and, bruised and bleeding.
Your eyes, resting in flame,
Leaven me breathless again.
Like hydrogen spread on fault lines.
Or dead, kissing me with exposure to radon.
Your eyes slit the throat, of all I know.
About myself and this life.
Silhouette lies.
its funny how hypocritical I can actually be. beacuse I am about to believe a silhouette of a person. against my own will I believe the outline. along my will I believe the outline. This ones different. different vibe, different feeling, different temptation, different trust. different me trusting a silhouette.
I just watched myself step my right foot out in front of me. there is nothing under my right foot and i still step out. im diving off a cliff with my hands straight up in the air and my eyes closed. the rush goes through my stomach. there is no way to know whether I fall or I fly right now. but we'll see.
Em
its crazy how so many people have a different outline than their solid inside. Its things like that that worry me. an outline is all one can see of a person. no one can really know someone beyond their silhouette. even if they "open-up" or "reveal" to you. whatever they say that may convince a person is still their silhouette. and there is no way of telling if the silhouette is a lie or not. its really a game of chance to believe a silhouette of a person. and thats the only way a person can get to know someone else. we are all just outlines. what is on our insides may be told but then again it can just be another game of the joker. there honestly is no way to tell because everyone is an actor of their own suit.
And your eyes, speaking in tongues.
Vigilant still, filling my lungs.
Testing my will.
They leave me broken and, bruised and bleeding.
Your eyes, resting in flame,
Leaven me breathless again.
Like hydrogen spread on fault lines.
Or dead, kissing me with exposure to radon.
Your eyes slit the throat, of all I know.
About myself and this life.
Silhouette lies.
its funny how hypocritical I can actually be. beacuse I am about to believe a silhouette of a person. against my own will I believe the outline. along my will I believe the outline. This ones different. different vibe, different feeling, different temptation, different trust. different me trusting a silhouette.
I just watched myself step my right foot out in front of me. there is nothing under my right foot and i still step out. im diving off a cliff with my hands straight up in the air and my eyes closed. the rush goes through my stomach. there is no way to know whether I fall or I fly right now. but we'll see.
Em