Sometimes…
I pretend I'm dead.
If I lay still,
And be very, very quiet,
I'm no longer there.

It's bliss,
Laying here,
Dead like this.
It's better,
Than facing the masquerade of reality.

It's better than
Lies.
A plastic disguise.
An ugly face,
A fat disgrace.

I can pretend,
That I'm real.
I can feel.
I'm perfect.
Not a defect.

But then,
Comes the waking up.
I'm back.
To being,
Me.