In Plain Sight

We all take turns playing demon
Impassioned, defeated
But not all can perform shadow
On the ceiling, in the gallows
 
They spend too much time on hatred
Heart fetal, so naked
Singing the flute of their lava
All the feelings, the cheap drama
 
I had friends in sacred places
They blister, no faces
Replaced by myself book-burning
Not biblical, just page turning
 
You taste a gram of my magics
Less spellbound, more addict
Hoping to find versions of me
We buried here so long ago
 
I'm not hiding, you just don't know.