Here on glass lips,
Are see through smiles,
Words concealed,
To a catastrophic box,
Skin so frail,
It tears away when I cut it,
Bartering for my life,
I sell myself short,
Here in paint filled rooms I stand,
Waiting for the agony,
To outweigh the dread,
But the tables slowly turn,
And scales falter under excessive weight,
My structure accounts for nothing,
As I dissipate,
A frozen look,
Of knowing my own fate,
A warm feeling,
Over whelming the brain,
Whispering to myself false truths,
About an unrelenting and shattered life,
I need to hear myself lie,
Just to dream to make believe,
That someday,
I will wake up from this life.