What is so wrong with me that I must ****** myself into these situations?
Ones where I snag fishing hooks to the ends of my mouth,
Forcefully pulling it into a performative smile for the comfort of others.
Giving into every whim and demand they ask of me,
All so I won't be alone in my thoughts, and broken beyond comprehension.
As the hooks begin to tear and the tears begin to shed, I regret.
I do not want to smile anymore, though I do not want to be alone.
I begin pulling at the shreds of my remaining flesh upon my face,
Trying to configure it to be positive, to show no pain in my expression.
But the pain is unbearable, my face falls in chunks on the floor,
Revealing me, a disgusting monster puppeting this human form.
Still unable to shake the dread, and having to pin up a smile for others.
The situations never leave me, and the scars of my reconfiguration remain.