as long as i hold in the sting,
& my eyes don't betray my smile,
as long as i don't say the wrong thing,
this will make it all worthwhile.

i assure you, there is no depth,
nothing but a mannequin in disguise,
what you see, what you get,
only blankness behind the eyes.

painting these cell bars pink,
trading reality for daydreams,
stubbornly refusing to stop & think,
unless it's in extremes.

will this hollowness continue to grow?
can i escape the apathetic nightmare?
i don't ever really know,
& i don't seem to really care.