Maggot

Flygohr
Flygohr
Jan 13 · 2 min read

Everybody’s got a secret
Would you like to tell me yours?

I can’t leave
I can’t turn away from a world like this one
I could save myself
Or let you save me

Everybody’s got a secret
And I don’t know if I want to tell you mine

I thought I was that book
That you misjudged, from its cover
But I’m just scattered notes
Poorly written, messy, meaningless
Sitting on a bed that doesn’t feel mine
Where I cry, in silence

I thought I was a survivor
but I’m just an asshole, all martyrdom
and no salvation, no acquittal

I choose a mask between many, the most comfortable
And I’m not afraid of anything
Because on the inside, I’m empty
I pick a battle and I stage it
I don’t care to live forever
I just want to die a king

I live a play, a recital
And I’m good, I’m the best
At being wrong
I get down the stage and
Nobody knows who I am
Neither do I

And I get down some more
Fists clenched
At the bottom of my abyss
But you don’t know

Sometimes I’m just so far away that
I don’t know what I fear the most
To not find myself anymore
Or to find me again
I’m next to forget everything,
I’m the next to be forgotten

I tear the photographs off the wall
Thousands of eyes stare at me from between the blankets folds, from the shadows
Around me, the plaster begins to peel off the walls revealing dirty, cracked bricks
The ceiling is a cobweb, and a multitude of spiders descending towards me
Behind the photos are written notes, but they get lost under salty drops
I ears are ringing, my heart is pounding, my head is bursting

And I just don’t care

Everybody’s got a secret
And I don’t know if I want to know yours.

Flygohr

Written by

Male, 24, Italy. Freelance comic book artist and illustrator. Unapologetic troublemaker. Extreme coffee evangelist. Superhero.

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