When I wake, when I work,
When I sleep, when I shirk,
Always putting on an act
Nobody can see the facts

On occasion, more now than then,
I pick up pencil, pick up pen,
And try to drop the cloak of bliss,
And enter into the abyss.

To open up, to feel my pain,
To feel my loss, to feel my gain.
I think of all the ones I knew,
Alive and dead, non- human too.

Some did choose to leave my life,
To bide their time and twist the knife,
I could think of them at any hour,
But only fear and grief would flower.

Some of them aim to patronize,
And so a plan they do devise,
To draw you in with gifts and treats,
They do you harm, then this trick they repeat.

But they see through half-blind eyes!
I am not clueless! I see their guise!
When this trick it does not work,
They seem insane, they go berserk.

I put on a brave face by day,
To hide the fact I'm feeling grey.
All washed out, not even blue,
My facade is fragile, but it will do.

If I ever am repaired,
If for a moment someone cared,
Then I will be back, this time fighting,
Fists for punching, teeth for biting.

My cloak of bliss, cover me up,
Horse of happiness, you are to gallop.
If my cloak should not exist,
Then peace shall be of what I consist.

When I wake, when I work,
When I sleep, when I shirk,
Always putting on an act
Nobody can see the facts