Circus of Fleas
I have filthy hands and nails from digging through out the shit of existence.
My fault and problem,
My ever-searching mind.
The truth is out, yet know one cares.
The truth is out, but the leash of control keeps laughing,
Knowing I see through it, and who it is.
Knowing my circles and screams mean nothing to a world of fools.
And so I no longer worry about the Dog,
I just wonder about its’ fleas.