Stripped

Painting mirrors with my eyes
To show filtered thoughts in mind
The wicked face of your idol
In fear of what will not reconcile...

Building egos on my lies
Something else grows with fruitless tries
My vagabond face of yourself
Believe in me since I seem like myself...

With all the thinking of what should be
Infamously encouraging futility

Would you like to see the insides of your martyr?
(Even) when there is absolutely nothing to see underneath?

Getting attention to think I would care
A bleeding heart empty with air
A word out mask of a dead expression
The broken mold of the same depression...

Do I seem more honest?
(Even) when the flesh is stripped?
All that's left are skeletons underneath the skin of everyone