Ver

When you say you feel for me
you do create illusions.

When you don't say anything
I feel like drowning in pure air.

Suffocation anywhere and not a chance to breathe.
Declarations, non-issues, labels and conclusions.

Damage, doubt and liberty,
hurt and bled me even there.

Judgement, judgement everywhere,
nor a spot to breathe.

Courtesy, gods and déjà-vu,
myths of shadows' heartless care.

You'd whisper any other name
and prune what might just wreathe.

No gods are sacred, never were,
as I've been well aware.