The words pouring from your being are not yours; they are merely a sin of your false conscious thought—a cheap echo your mouth repeats while your soul watches from afar.
You speak and speak, believing you choose every letter, yet the words were already altered in the shadows. Your subconscious touched them first—it stained, rewrote, and condemned them.
It is your subconscious connecting with your conscious self, shattering the lie that you think for yourself. What leaves your mouth is merely the fractured translation of battles raging in the depths, beyond the reach of your reason.
Your conscious mind believes it rules, decides, and holds the throne.
But it is a false king; the true king dwells in the cellar of your being, issuing decrees that you—unknowingly—simply spit out