They say that the eyes are the window to the soul. It remains who 'they' are or whether 'they' are simply unidentifiable and therefore infallible. Either way, I think poetry is a more telling portrayal of one's demise and delerium.
Evol Intent - Flipside:
I've killed myself I've been born again,
With razor fangs for these bitter men.
I'm filled with rancor for my fate,
I've clothed my soul in these rags of hate.
As I fall down on these bloody knees,
Perception shattered, now I see.
Intoxicated in hindsight, I'm going to get you on the flipside.
Yes folks, it's one of those days. Where the sun comes up, the rain comes down and you don't even notice because you're too caught up in your own happymess.
