Every morning I wake up,
Am reminded of so much I need to be ashamed of
Immediately, all the little strenght I'd gathered while asleep,
Vanishes, leaving me with a vacuum so deep.
I take up a feeble stand,
So as not to waste the day I have in hand.
With little make- up and simple lace
I pretend that everything is in place
Yet I'm merely a living dead
Yearning that someday this torment would come to an end.

At nights, the feeling increases with much fierceness
In its' silence and darkness
Am left alone with my regrets and rage
Entangled with my past, enfettered in it's cage
Is it the regret of giving my everything,
While loosing the confidence to be me?
Or the rage from repeatedly falling for hidden lies
Enshrouded in deceitful smiles?
With my strength fully abated,
I lie in the pool of my own tears, still; without the vacuum satiated.