I am so very weak.
Times and choices get hard
And my options are run away,
Or build a mask so well
That it becomes my face

I don’t see a present
Past and future are all in my eyes,
The rest unthought, never will be.
It is safety this way,
Better than being too present.

I still own hope
It is still inside my feet
But I float apart, separated,
Made only of ribbons from my mask,
Each decision calculated by fear

I cannot choose between two
Hope and fear
One is a luxury
The other a necessity
I am too poor to afford either
So I carve masks of stolen fear
And pretend myself rich