O.J

You’ve thoughts like unfiltered orange juice
No watered down misconceptions
Gritty bits of guts floating to the top
While pulp fiction muddles in the middle
All this encased by your smooth demeanor
And condensed in one glass cup
Through which most will only ever see their own reflection
But I can view with naked eye the truth it yields
Your dreams and darkest secrets swirled
And ground as you try to squeeze your inner demons
Into droplets of sweat and tears
Yet still they glisten on the surface of your skin