I often found myself every single cold night
Remembering all the facade I have put until now
Then, there was a fire, a fire trying to ignite
A heated voice, demanding to be exposed which I didn’t allow
I often found myself weeping despite smiling
Chromatic I am yet I perceived the world as dark gray
Unhappy I am by almost every single thing
And the voice inside laughed at me, much to my dismay
The voice asked, “But why? Why do you try so hard?”
“To impress the people who went astray?”
“You’re hiding it behind a cloak, the self you always guard”
“If they deny your existence, wouldn't it be better to walk away?”
What am I even doing to myself?