Sty

so accostumated to the dirt

day after day, no arguments to say 

bringing to the house beyond the hurt

the gift of denial also makes you salivate 

the glow dies inside

the pollution is not only outside 

no realization left alive

is it to late to use your brain?

ready to bath in the sty again 

where did the notion go?

maybe in a accumulation endless hole

you can not see anymore

under the blindfold is the erroneous comfort 

you lay and feast over on and on and on