Some people endeavor to portray a persona.
Some people perpetuate the beliefs of their parents.
Some people pretend to be somebody they've seen on TV.
Some people have trouble accepting that they're actually existing.
Some people perceive themselves as being unlike anyone else.
Some people have an aversion to personality profiling.
Some people just can't help themselves.
Some people feel a need to place everyone they've ever known into categories.

Bitter heart.
Bitter tastes.

Broken parts -
Pretty face.

No more phony saviors.
No more unasked for questions.
No more forced behaviors or unwanted confessions.

No more false prophets.
No more second guesses.
No more burnt synapses or blown out thought processes.

No more ****** mouths.
No more bitten tongues.
It's finally over now.
Finally, it's done.

The End to Ups and Downs -
forget about "c'est la vie."
There'll be nothing more from You now;
all that's left is Me.

Oh no, please say it isn't so.
I've allowed this thing to grow into something I can no longer control.
I'm somehow functioning past the point where I should have stopped functioning long ago.
The person who I once was,
the person who I wanted to be,
it's all just dust now scattered by the wind.
I don't even know who I am anymore.
Some stranger stares back at me when I look into the mirror.
He whispers, "you've become everything you've always hated."
I stare back and ask, "how does it feel?"