Under the hood

Silent under the hood, I may seem,
Looking stupid, rejecting them
Who expect me to be former as they pass by.

I see my image on a late-lightened phone call.
Blindfolded, I sip everything liquid.
And they then put upon wrong clues
The dark secluded conclusion
Never concludes.

Lately, merely words are obsession
Actions, misleading indications
That may always make sense.
Whole day, my mind is grabbed
Wicked weeks, murdering months,
For an unimportant, under-enthusiastic catch up.
Being ignored over betrayal is disrespect.
And to lie, hiding tears in your heart,
Being hypocritically happy.
Do I exist Or I merely exist?

My pen scribbles it rough, still.
It's not as old as my mind.
I may not put often in white and black
And never by teeth and tongue.
It goes on and on.
For my sake or my bad, I'll never know.