Max Rena Metastar

I lose myself with every step I take,
The mirror lies—this isn’t my true face.
Maybe I’m just a shadow on cold concrete,
Or a fallen cross from rooftops to the waste.
The world is dust, but I’m choking on it,
Pain is my tongue, I scream without sound.
A front-row seat to the circus of bullets,
No way out—but I’m not looking now.
Are my veins filled with lead or with gold?
The sky stays mute like a cursed witness.
I don’t beg for light, I know how this goes:
Heaven’s a lie, hell’s my birthright.
The world is dust, but I’m choking on it,
Pain is my tongue, I scream without sound.
A front-row seat to the circus of bullets,
No way out—but I’m not looking now.