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This addresses the self-deception we all practice. We construct a facade about the self we would like to be, or who we think we should be, and we convince ourselves that’s who we are. We paint a portrait of ourselves that is not accurate. But somewhere deep within our subconscious we know we are not who we pretend to be and this causes abstract psychic discomfort. It’s  only the most fortunate among us that happen upon our truth and become Unbound.  


In the end will I remember all the lies I  told myself 

Bout who I am  and who I’m not and all that you want you I see.

In the end will I remember hiding me from me

Will this cocoon of self-deception keep the steely truth away





A single word or distant scent can bring the mountain down  on you 

And leave the you you built yourself a flopping on the ground

Is it best to surf this hollow wave pf pretense to the shore 

Or best to crash and meet yourself and so  become unbound




And down the road 

And Not just now 

And Later on

When time allows 

In setting sun

Will I be hounded 

By the memory 

Of what I’ve done

I’m painting the same painting 

For as long I remember

I’m devising and I’m contriving

I’m revising and I’m hoping


We paint a  picture 

Of our myth 

Based on lies


Are you the you 

You hang on the wall

Do you believe in your own fiction


Painting my life

Painting my life 


Painting my life 

I’m painting 

Painting my life

Painting my life 

Painting my life 

Still painting

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