Made from the fabric of broken dreams
pieced together in this effortless jiffy
as to hide the truth behind these seams,
that way no one could never even truly see
how my eyes have become a grayish blue.

I've lost control over what I can show,
merely a puppet with a cruel puppeteer
misleading me to think I have free will.
Trying to find a motive in this quiet torso
which isn't reassuring me that I'm alive,
so I could survive a battle that's all uphill.
But is going onwards still what I owe?
I'm guessing so, fighting away the night
mercilessly as they've been trained to ****.

No ears hear these smothered screams
or can ever tell if I'm feeling quite iffy,
for their too clever with their schemes
as I will always be letters from being free
and seeing this life from a brighter view.