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Magician

Are we always who we think we are?

By Bazooka TeachesPublished 5 years ago Updated 4 years ago 1 min read
Photo from Pixy.org

Who are you?

I ask every time

You know he is the black magician

Hiding inside this fleshy shell

He comes and goes

Now you see him

Now you don’t

When He comes out

Spirits follow

Angels hide as he wallows

He makes this vehicle the king

He drives it to the extreme

This dusty shell that’s been following orders

He’ll make it shake

Eat up all the fakes

And inhale smoky mistakes

For he is the king of disaster

The black magician

That disappears in the light

At night, he dwells

Making this robot live for once

Escaping its miserable flight

On this wilted sandy rock

Who cares what cards he gets

He plays them to the best

Do you know who you are?

The black magician he likes to be

Maybe I have a trick as well

Or is he my trick

-

By Bazooka Teaches

performance poetry

About the Creator

Bazooka Teaches

A regular Joe that is just surviving the struggle. Loves to write and is constantly fighting the forces of evil.

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