Simple Disproportion

I left my self in thin veneer.
The shellac, lacking.
I was only didactic.

A predilection to voice my veiled actions.
But it wasn't me.
They lied in simple truths when honesty was dressed to thrill.
Homage to my own pain and distortion they'd say.
But I'm privy.
Blinded by the brightness understanding.
I will not be demanding.
No wailing or gnashing of the teeth.
I won't sue for slandered emptiness.
I will, instead, torch the bridge back there.
Leave the obvious forward path, an only child of decisions.

And I will be wildly righteous.
Dogmatic in my repose and soon to be blissful.
Not respite though.
No.
Fully loaded guns and spray paint.
I will deride the good and supplement the nothing with splashed out words like "equality" and "tolerance".
I remember you saying that the company is a very long time.
The "company".

My story.
From bloody birth to grisly purification.
How I lauded them.
How I have been trivial in self.
Lacking the core.
The device to love at length was transition.
Only a void in pain.
And fear only a debacle of my own lively hope.

I'll reach for the door now.
Grip the doorknob.
And open everything out, out to rectify the lost time.
Out to divorce the compromises.
Annul the sadness that always makes me cry.