Playing a persona with no strings attached,
breathes a moment of life into your mirror.
Letting you live outside yourself-detached,
only for you to see yourself clearer.
With each emotion\'s mask comes a toll,
of mindlessly following protocol.
Seduced by the illusion of control,
forever stuck in this masquerade ball.
So I switch through faces to keep my façade,
trying not to breathe in hysteria\'s contagion.
Pretending not to realize that we\'re all flawed,
while delicately dedicated to live in sentient sin.
Stories of colour play in the theatres of chaos,
blessing illness with a false sense of peace.
With the struggle to get the message across,
the fine line of fact and fiction begins to cease.
Living through each story like voyaging the multiverse,
using the bliss of ignorance of a jester\'s disguise.
Locks the original sin to be your age old curse,
but only years of ferment forms the wooden to the wise.
Now we\'ve abandoned our youth to their fractured mind,
poisoning their vision with tints of rose blood hue.
But what is living when our fears are intertwined,
if you\'re not living through someone else\'s point of view.