The Poisonous Façade
The gilding on the mask rots, and I find myself staring into the rot beneath.
The lies I tried to cover up, the pain I tried to disguise
It's all there, waiting for me patiently,
Unwilling to lie, so, so unlike me.
I panic, knowing I'm going to have to lie again; going to have to cheat again, going to have to steal again,
And all this in the name 'of survival'.
What is it to survive if you are unable to face the things you do on a daily basis?
What is it to ask for forgiveness when you know that you are just going to fall again?
We all push to survive; push to have our place in the sun
And will we achieve the (glorified) status we hope for?
Probably not in this lifetime.
This poison courses through my veins and pulls at me, moulding me
Making me into the monster I'll become,
Reminding me of the traits of my flawed existence.
Showing me the path of my future…
And then, the realisation hits me; I am not alone in my depravity.
Everything is a farce.
We all lie and pretend that we are something we're not…
Kind, caring, loving.
Yet, in the end, we're all savages.
So, in following with the rest of the world, I ask the question, what is it worth?