Blind Spot of Myself

Tear off the lies
Don't believe the truth
I don't afraid to cry
But is it really good to be alive?
I draw my mind on the blog
Let future me to ridicule what I did before
Each of the post is a grid of film
Slowly, repeatedly to play it again
In the stopped moment
I record it inside the words
Let me sit silent on the floor, hide inside the box
Read again each word I wrote
Help me once again to know myself in this blind spot