When I look in the mirror and I see nothing,
but they visualize the world in my curves
so I go with it.
 
I feel degraded, but their satisfaction somehow settles my nerves
more than I’ll ever admit.

There has to be something more than this,
but instead I’m stuck in a mutated bliss
that gives me less than a pinch of confidence, 
which I savor as my self-significance...

...is this all I’m worth?

Maybe they're just bluffing.

Her breath was halcyon 
We were my axiom;
I was her peace 

Piecing pictures out of nothing 
Pretty words, I caught her bluffing 
Then the release