The Average Life

Enemy, why this fiend?— I keep you close.
Know by my lackluster smile,
I am not God, but not (am I) a demon.
Yet as I call satan the master of Hitler's homicides
And I shun the dark arts and cringe at suicides,
My brothers are ghosts and my sister's sirens
Whom I secretly urge to disrupt normal behaviors
In order to gossip once more.

But they call me a paper tiger.

See I do not consider myself possessed,
But test me not lest you tap the lid
of comatose darkness hard enough
That I can stand no longer but to reveal my true colors,
Which we all know,
Is actually no color at all.
Transparent, like a slice of dead skin.
I'm a prince if there ever were one.
And though I do not sympathize with slavery,
I require a share of servitude in my presence.
Though I piously give of currency
To those desperate souls, I am always bribed to do so,
So that someone condones my character.

I am fish-eyed.

See I am not egocentric, just entitled,
And I am not heinous,  just hypocritical!
I am not sinister, just sane.
Not ignorant—just blind, numb and deaf.
But not mute, oh no, you will hear me.
Not entirely righteous, but deserving...enough
And I am not a beggar,
 Though I am secretly justifying myself,
for myself, to myself —of myself.
I have convinced myself of my own
Aptitude, bravado, chastity...zest
And I pray that you agree
With my self-image...because I hate your opinion,
But love your approval.
In fact I live off of it, that is to say,
If you believe I live at all.
And do not ridicule at this, friend!
We are family.
Equally cavalier, trust me to betray my trustworthiness.
For I am,
The average life.