bionic

bionic is my nickname. and i just fucked up everything


It's artificial and plastic
How can you feel when you're dead?
Everything you say and think and fear is a lie
So you throw away the dust,
Replace it with shiny new thoughts,
But it's still rotting there.
Like a blister, it's redundant.
And years pass by
And you're still a lie.
You want it to be pure,
Innocent and white.
You might be grey someday
But you'll never be divine.
And you try and try
And makes you tired and you cry
Your life becomes a white night,
Long, lonely, desperate and rainy.
You wish you could turn back Time,
But it's there and you can't fight it
Endless dreams and long lost hopes,
Like a movie, your life flashes in front of your sight.
You wish you could be bionic once again
So that you wouldn't be burried in hatred,
So that every day could be a new chance to make it,
To prove it, to solve it. Solve life.
Instead of it, you become what you feared the most:
Perfectly imperfect.

A few spelling mistakes, a little cliché in some parts

But other than that I loved it.