i am but what you think of me

i am but what you think of me

and nothing more unthinkingly

an inkling and credulity

you know as well as i

that eyes befalling from outside

see everything we try to hide

like sharks trapped in formaldehyde

but all of its a sham

for i know not you, you not i

just brushstrokes in a painted sky

just a collection of notes in a book or melody

that form a song

and who knows what i sound like to you?

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