Smoke rises from vents

and water sinks into flesh

Acid rain wipes away

the tears we shed in distress

Granite cracks under accusing glares

black cats walk past every day

We rub away the soot on the mirror

to see this cardboard city we have made

The ceilings become soggy

and the walls start to cave in

and we start to think maybe

we should leave this illusion

But we know the sun will come back

and bake our city dry

And we'll stay one more day

in this cardboard city lie

If we venture outside

they'll question our ideals

and those hypocrites will make

us wonder what exactly is real

So we'll shy away from reality

and continue to deny

but maybe one day the sun won't come out

and bake our city dry.

FORCED WRITING.

I think that about covers it.