The return of the cuckoo…

When you wake up one day and the version of you, you wanted to get away from reminds you of who you truly are and it brings you back to life. Bcuz all the smiles and good deeds in the world are outta reach. Bcuz being a better person is over fuckin rated. When that dog wakes back up and everything that hasn’t felt like a norm fades away for the comfort of the fight chases it away. As the calmer side failed to maintain a balance as self needs the shackles removed. No fucks giving flies a set of birds seen in the mirrors image for the memory to chuckle bcuz it doesn’t have to like diddly squat. Needing not to play along for peace when the mind flips the switch to misbehave. The thought lingers, I tried. The smirk moves, who cares. When the old refuses to give in to the subtle bs granted can’t even take. When. It’s past the time of allowing shit. When standing on morals fluctuates when weaving to the bob of flowing with the wind. When the mind finally snaps back into reality and faces aren’t familiar any more. As the growl from within hungers for a lil taste of insanity, wanting to play in pettiness for the game is easy for the win. Even those itty bitty butterflies float in the stomach when the cocoon opens up to release the cuckoo laughing steadily. Warped by life wanting to claim its creation. Knowing it was a genetic mutation instead. When the truths of untold secrets hiding up under the tongue wanna speak. Pour a double shot, tilt the head back and feed whatever energy has provoked the monster wanting nothing more than to be left the fuck alone…