A harsh record plays in the back

of my mind,

and my manipulations of my history

splinter me because it gets to the point

when sorting through the lies becomes harder

than the blemishes they covered at the time.

I spent so much time creating an image,

a person that I wanted to be, a person that

wasn't the wretch and wreck of a human being that

I was

that it overtook me, a lie greater and sadder than

its creator.

I faked it until I made it, but the shallow stuff that

made my mask shredded so

easily that I was

forced to reinforce it with the terrible lies and

easy wit that came so easily when peace didn't.

The drums roll in the song and my heart plays along,

because it's never been quite on cue ever since I

jumped the rails, and decided that a life of torture

was the better option of a life spent in fear.

I spent my days smiling and nodding, forever

afraid that someone would see the fear,

the fact that the light reflected from my eyes

a little too sharply for there to

be any sort of depth beneath them.

If the eyes are windows to the soul then

mine open onto a brick wall that

I erected piece by piece, laying down lies

like defenses with the calculation of

chess pieces.

Jesus, but I made my life so much harder,

and I wish that I knew my next steps

because they all seem to be fading,

and they're taking me further and further

away from the people I think I love.

I don't know enough to know what I am,

but by God I think I'll die trying.

This song boils to a crescendo, but I

don't know if it will break;

don't know if I will break.

I may be shallow, and I may be affected;

I may be arrogant, and I may be deluded,

but only I am responsible for the actions as

a result of my thoughts, and

I don't know what I'll choose.

I don't know where the song ends.

I only know I suddenly crave silence.