My separation from myself,
The empty books upon the shelf,
Fascinate the child who stares.

Walk no further, no one dares
To look inside my eyes to see,
A better person you can't be.

Tortured by atrocity,
Through years of instinct
Now I'll plea.

You prefer to not sit stare or be quiet.
But through your head I see my riot.
Counting closed, you speak you mind,
Find complaints and fake to hide
Them from yourself, you know,
That's exactly what you show.

Live off this cycle for a while.
In this cabinet,
You're just a file.
As a group of existential dust,
Even I find,
To be more just.