Why am I here?

In my hurt eyes
You saw your own reflection
and turned my lies
with love and affection.

An artist and singer.
A dreamer and romantic.
A story's zinger
is your freakish antic.

We know but we don't.
Confusing and cold.
I've killed but I won't.
I'm feeling so old.

So escape away to pour your heart in codes and mystery.
To another place to bring myself and tell my history.
I'm sinful and nothing great.
Just another of my heart's debates.