To be seen is to be known,
so I hide in plain sight.

Elusive I appear;
to none am I near.
But if you were to push past the curtain,
you could glimpse into what once was a person.

Shards of glass have entered my skin,
leaving me scarred,
burying myself deep within.
A walking grave some might say.

My soul hides from the light of day,
for it is here where my mask would melt away.
So I shield myself from impenetrable forces.
Imprisoned to my solitude,
yet solaced in my suffering.