This is the place where the smiles are

sterile and

fake.

Where they stare at you,

but no one ever sees you

Where everyone else is asleep and I linger

awake

In a delicate

bubble of

perfection,

I can't avoid walking

forward in fragility

A delicate line,

a straight line,

waking mechanically with a manufactured

beauty.

I can't escape the impending

infection.

This is the place where relieving

strife,

(Maybe for me, maybe not,

maybe for you)

Comes from the edge of a

knife

In the clouds of

flawlessness

I want to

believe it's all a

lie

(They're all liars)

This place was the one I never

wanted

to call

Home.

The place I never will.

This place will forever be a

footnote

The days I wait to be on my own.

This is the place

The pressure of grace

This is the place,

the story.

One day, this will be the end