This isn't the life you thought you'd live.
Everything's as dusty as the echoes in your head,
Your shadowy future is just as dark, as the monsters in the corner,
But they're warm, they make you believe that the world is colder.
So you take your lighter and let its flame fly, blowing against your finger,
Burning just the top layer of skin, and it's got to be okay,
You think if you could just shed it like a snake, everything could be new
Then you could step into the light, because as it is, that possibility
Is weighing you down
Your face is so familiar with the dirt, you brush your teeth with it,
Watch as potato bugs and worms crawl between your fingers,
And what must the world look like, to them? Down there?
To the creatures in the thick of it-
This isn't the life you thought you would live.
You feel alien, dejected and denied,
Painting your body with thin black ink, with phrases you adopted,
And pretty pastels, anything that will simply hide you away
Wear the mask you have to make yourself, so that,
Through the processes of painstakingly crafting it, you feel attached.
It doesn't occur to you that there's someone under all of it
Until you meet someone,
Whose curt words draw truths spluttering from your mouth,
Whose eyes render you naked,
Send you sprawling, back into the dirt.
And then they leave.
Leaving you wondering who you ever were.