Its hard to shed the mask

on hollow lifelines

I cant escape the past

it follows me through

Broken with no cast

I watch the wounds grow

Deeper they consume

my every movement

I am not myself

im an illusion

Drowning with the act

and its confusion

I wish I could go back

before im taken

Over by the mask

like im forsaken

It will hold on tight

become my face and

Never let me go

until im fading

Philosophy put on pause

cuz as im changing

I try to fit the scene

the situations

Why cant I be me?

Heres my frustrations

On the page and clear

im out of patience

But I play my role

this old corrupted

Mangled empty mold

im missing something

Bumping me out of place

im on the cusp

Asking why should I always change

when times get tough

Are my needs not important too?

just crude and rough

But my memory bursts and the answer explodes

that im not quite good enough