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Fake words woven in a friendly seam.
A laugh, a nod, a fleeting jest,
All masks they wear—none pass the test.
I tried to stand where all could see,
To please the crowd, to just be me.
But shadows shifted, whispers fell,
Their silence struck, a quiet hell.
One by one, they fade, erase,
Ghosts in the hollow of my space.
No goodbyes, no honest cuts,
Just endless bleeding papercuts.
The lesson stings but leaves its trace,
Not all smiles are meant to embrace.
So now I walk, a wanderer’s tread,
Where fake ties die, and truth is fed.
Dreams now distant, like far-off lands.
A jaded heart, its fire dim,
Projects consume what’s left within.
Emotions fade, a fleeting spark,
Dissociation paints the dark.
Connections form, yet hollow rings,
A past that shadows every spring.
Life on autopilot, eyes half-shut,
Enduring a thousand silent cuts.
A stoic mask, the face I wear,
The future looms—I’m halfway there.
No love to claim, no wounds to mend,
Just chasing goals that never end.
In this routine, I carve my space,
A fading trace in time’s embrace.
As shadows lengthen like a thief's hand.
The moon's light shines, a beacon bright,
A guiding light in the darkest night.
Desire and longing, a tempest wild,
Tossing and turning the mind, a devil's child.
We must heal our wounds, lick them clean,
And build a life that is serene.
As the shackles of the past fall away,
A new light shines, a new day.