"Filthy"

‎"Filthy"


Can you see?
Do you even try?
Of course you don't.
You don't ask why
Until you ask the world
In hopes of feigning confusion.
You feed them the illusion
That you're lost or Disillusioned.
That's when you're afraid.
What a mess you've made:
Nothing happens in the light;
But nothing ceases in the shade.


You're starting to fade.
You're not looking well.
You pretend you've got it made;
But you're living in hell.
Ah well.
It's never been my style
To watch others wade and rile;
So sit there and self-defile.
It looks like you'll be awhile.
Why so worried? Smile.
You've no reason for regret.
This life is your best bet.
All your wants have been met...


...but you refer to them as needs.
All your glory. All your greed
Strewn across cold hearts like seeds;
Growing up to choke them like weeds.
Go on. Proceed.
You make this so fascinating.
Thought to be exacerbating;
It's become so satiating.
This is just so interesting:
All this time you've been investing;
Mistaking shortcomings for blessings.
You swear to God that you're progressing....


....but soon the day will come
When you can't hide the setbacks;
And when they ask you to step back,
You'll rewind to all those hollow "facts"
About the "nature of your condition"
Or how you're "in transition."
You'll send yourself on that mission
Just to make them look and listen.
You pretend to care so much.
Yes. That is my honest opinion.
You can dust it off and such;
But dirt clods will never glisten.


They don't believe you.
They never needed to.
You can cover yourself in mud;
But you will always be see through.
You flawlessly fool yourself
As you aim to sway the masses;
But the sheep will never follow
A shepherd mistaking them for asses.
Take off those glasses.
Rub some more soil on your face.
Cover up that faulty grace.
Lick your fingers. Have a taste.


All prior remnants of truth
Have been scattered and misplaced
From filling in those nooks
Where purity has been erased.
Divinity is now obscenity.
Eclectic has become decrepit:
The pupil of all impurities
Has fallen victim to it's method.
Don't worry about the stench.
It simply separates the guilty
From the hearts they wish to clinch.
No thoughts are wasted on the filthy.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz