Ashes from my bones
buried underneath the ground,
acting as a soil
for magnificent flowers.

Crow's cry far in the distance,
air soaked with dense feeling of death.

The scenery - masterpiece of pain and dread.
Here feelings bleed,
Watering the ground with tears.

The lonely moon is the only witness.
Ah, who knows I existed?

You always waited for the moment
When the wind will come
And take you away

Like a paper crane

Gently dancing with the breeze
Flying far, far from me
You couldn't see
The tear on my cheek
But it's okay
It will dry

And maybe someday I to will learn how to fly

Still haven’t learned to properly play human
The mask still feels foreign (my face)
The skin forced, sewn on me, like a makeshift puppet
The moves are pain to learn
Agonizing to perform
Constantly tripping over my feet
And messing up the lines I’m supposed to say  
And after the show is done
The audience is still not pleased
Always unsatisfied
Maybe they can see through the façade
(surely not,
I’ve put so much blood and sweat and….)

Or maybe this never was going to be enough  
(Even if I was real)
Regardless
The show must go on
So adorn your porcelain mask again
And play
Until there’s nothing left of you to feel the pain