If shallow lakes hold your beauty in their waters,
I do not care to break their stilling surface,
Water lilies and reeds of wild grass do not tempt,
Because where do I find more, once the image falters
With little more than a gaze at the lilies? Their grace,
On the surface, is all they can give for an attempt.

In shallow lakes, I can see their bottom is nigh,
So to swim is not feasible, nor delightful;
To merely wade in a shallow pond — uninspiring!
Alas, to surface from deepest parts yields but a sigh,
And if waters here were to drink, it would not fill my soul,
Still beautiful to gaze upon, but after little time is tiring.

So I indulge myself in the vastness of the sea,
The depths are endless, and the storms are foul,
But in the ocean deep, when I start swimming far,
The waters are an infinite sea of fantasy,
To be swallowed whole within the temptest’s howl;
The deepest depths will heal the deepest scar.

Lay my mirth to rest
At the foot of my grave
I think it died the same day
I lost my face

Who the **** even knows me?
Who the **** even cares?

Late night car rides,
Empty pints of *****,
A one-night ecstacy,
With a heartbreak dawn:

She shows her shallows,
As if they're great depths;
A cry of sorrow? Honey,
You ain't seen nothing yet.

She's not an open book,
She's just a bookmark type of personality.
Stuck between the pages of something more interesting,
Like a catalog or a Cosmo magazine.

Oh, she's always just caught between someone's pages,
With bits and pieces of their's stories rubbing off on her,
But them words don't look the same tattooed on her, oh no.

So stop pretending you're the deepest sea,
Your pretentious crap never fooled me.

Is this what it feels like to live an empty life?

I wish I was blind
To leave the superficial behind,
Take a breath from drowning
In the insignificance of my surroundings.

Beauty is the illusion that escapes the surface of me,
I can never find it in the reflection I see.
It has been defined in straight lines
And by the passage of time.

You see that magazine girl?
It makes my head swirl,
Popping off the page
SHE owns the stage.

I once vied for so-called perfection,
Clawing at my face and body
Ripping apart, section by section.

Epiphany struck me to no longer chase it
For it is a mirage that disappears the closer you get.
I peer through transparent skin,
Searching for what lies within.

I desire to find something more,
To learn to shut out the ramblings of a shallow world.

This was the only face I was given
Are the edges frayed, are the bones brittle?
I cannot bring my eyes to your image
I am tongueless, dead

These are the hooks in my eyes
These are the anchors left when oceans dried
This is my blood, this is my flesh
I wasn’t molded to love, I was molded to live

Am I worthy?
Am I worthy?

Can I catch your attention?
If I crave just as selfishly
As the media art
Of ******* perfection?

Am I ugly?
Am I pretty?
Or am I faceless when you see me?
Am I faceless?
Am I faceless?
AM I FACELESS?