Cake is one of the most confusing things in the world.

It can be complex or simple to make,
With a variety of different ingredients per cake.

The recipe can contain ten different steps,
Or ten hours of grueling prep.

It, more so, depends on the person baking,
Whether or not they're capable of taking
On the pressure that comes with making
A terribly delicious cake.

We are in an elegant ballroom,
Surrounded with decadent silks and lace.
Everyone dancing,
Prancing,
At this hypocritical masquerade.

Our hair styled with jewels,
With our golden gilded chaises.
Everyone twirling,
Swirling,
At this hypocritical masquerade.

But with all their talking of peace,
And their stalking about with grace.
Everyone falling,
Stalling,
At this hypocritical masquerade.

We are all poor in life and in spirit,
But we put on a fake face.
Everyone lying,
Dying,
At this hypocritical masquerade.

Winter comes.
Rain falls.


Icicles.

What is this thing called anxiety?

Is it a dark force,
Bringing all our demons to light?

Is it that chilling, phantom breath,
Tickling the back of your neck?

Is it the reason you feel as if,
there are menacing eyes on your back?

Is it the fizz that runs through your veins,
Right before you meet your soul mate?

Is it the lack of air in your lungs?
Or the clamminess of your palms?

Is it the fact that,
Without meaning to,
Your body is always alert,
for things that don't exist?

No one knows what anxiety is.
All that we know is;
It differs per person,
and is never a comforting thing.

Crocodile Tears.

What are they?
Why do they exist?

Crocodile Tears.

You don't deserve to have them.
Your emotions are just a lie.

Crocodile Tears.

Why does no one believe me?
These emotions are so raw, still bleeding.

Crocodile Tears.

Shut up. Wipe your face.
Clear your clouded mind.

Crocodile Tears.

Stop the crystal clear lies.
And shut those tired eyes.

Crocodile Tears.

The two words people use,
To pretend that they're alright.

Crocodile Tears.

No one is crying here.

They're all just Crocodile Tears.

As of recently
A truth has come to light.
That with the lies,
Come a thousand flies
and the sour odour of vultures.

The scavengers.
They pick and pull at the  bloodied carcass
That was my story,
Pulling free from it's tethered mooring
That was my lying mouth.

Do we really understand
Why we lie and deceive?
When really, it'd be better,
If we left the fetter
And cage of deceit,

Behind.
Alone.
Where it can do no more  grievous harm.