As a fan of new beginnings,
I would like an end
To this existence made of dolls
All "perfect" and pretend

As fragile as the china that is the fabric
Woven into their souls
But not over the pit of hatred within
That emits through the holes

Pulsating wavelengths of bitter hatred
Black, odious and vile
An energy, the negative charge
That turns down many a smile

The friction within the air
That could tear it apart so easily
But is resisted by social norms...
"Perfection", all pretend..

So pick me up and let me fall
So I may shatter myself into pieces
That may reform into something better
Hiding away in niches...

*Afraid of confrontation and inspection, too strong....