I feel like my eyes, my skin,
Are like ties that bind me.
Lies that tithe my being.
Holding in my soul,
And that I'm numb,
I can't even feel,
Only the tears I cannot cry,
Are real.
Just a shell,
Oh living, living not a live,
living a lie an imposter,
peroposteroulsy going through the emotions,
thinking I'll be understood,
when no one dares to look under the hood,
Much less the mirage in the mirror,
Just echoes of fears and faded glories,
Scars of my own making.
And yet somehow it comforts me,
Darling dearest run far away,
Even as it with every step,
I become more empty.
I'm selfish, lovely,
And your beautiful facade,
masks my emptiness.
Into the void I wish to go,
But I have no bravery.
Just a shell,
A puppet,
Of some joke unseen.