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.