Aiming for Auto-Pilot

Incarcerated in insecurity,
You can call me a mass of mess,
Secrets locked up like security,
Not capable to confess,

Secluded in the silence,
Trapped beneath the smile,
Bound in the ambiance,
Scratching at denial,

The scream within the eyes,
Silent to the ears,
It's a soul inside that dies,
It's been killing me for years,

Now I'll let it eat me whole,
Allow it to run riot,
And I'll exist without a soul,
And live on auto-pilot,