Full Of Not Being There

The mask fits like an old shoe.
I have the Bottle Bank of Chine inside me.

DOORS SLAMMED

Shut in my caring face,
You taunt the idea of my embrace.
How can I see clearly through your fog of dorment shadows?
The lies and pain forever blamed on the

INNOCENT
INANIMATE

Nothing is true, especially the truth.
As you walk away I stand and wonder

WHY?

If you really care

STOP

Look in the hazed confusion of my brown eyes.
Only you can stop the pain,
But you enjoy the torment more.
One day your charade will stop.

And away from me you'll die.

Forever hating.
Forever gone.