Memoirs of the sociopath

Fragrance is brittle and lasting, a memory can carry through time on a simple composition, a symphony of particulates. Deep within, the mind carries those lasting moments, yet the motion will not come forth, a moment of grievance altered by bliss, incoherent and fliting, interchangeable pieces of life lost in the sand,
commotion relevant to absurdity. How can the mind sustain? blocked from reality, an echo of existence persists, the memoirs. the motion of the heart,
the perspiration of existence, action after action, lost in purpose. as life flows in relation, I set myself aside, I must thrive and dive, I still have my pride
inside. just keep breathing, breathing! sometimes its hard to find my way up in the clouds. converged to this one point, here we are, from eye to cheek, one scar.
little resides but we all die. The facet becomes my face, deep within the gem gleams a slight hint of light, lost between the twilight of night, perpetually out of sight.
Gleaming sight, lost in transition. anxiously waiting, tell me who you see, tell me who you feel and tell me where I be. I am lost between and never to be free. what you see
isn't, what you hear isn't. what is isn't. just as the drums beat, the little lie is in defeat. this is my throne and here I take my seat. Monster by choice, decay by day,
boy I was so right, stop giving it your all, was it the fall that me realize. your eyes were never pure, you'll never see me cry, I may be deprived, but I am the perfect lie.