Vasitven

What you think I am, I was

What you thought I was, now I am

 

I am the slave of my master,

They are your slaves,

The power of attorney oscillates.

Trust me the master and the slave,

I am not to be trusted,

The rotations cause me divergent pain.

 

The thought which controls life,

Lies in the brevity of the trusted

Me and my god often die.

The demon who resides inside you,

He tells you that this fading Déjà Vu,

Occurs when your god make my bed.

 

My master pretends to be someone like you,

You see him cleaning my lair seeing red.

Are you aware he serves you?

I’ll be the servant till I am seen;

And promise on this path I‘ll tread,

Until I trap you in your machine.

 

My master killed my demon long ago

But I was left broken

My demon had made my wife a widow.

Among all, none I’ve encountered,

Whom I judged to be better than my anonymous,

When I find myself, I sleep till he lurks.

 

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