You glue your eyelids shut The image of pain is cut You dye your hair in bleach Happiness out of reach You're rotten to the core You fight it more and more They are becoming you You spit on everything true Your opinions are your mask Held close just like your flask The world is now so numb You deny what you've become You dispose of your disguise Only to find that you have died Your hollow beliefs are filled Just like the grave you have built You uncover the irony This poem is about me I'll melt down my empathy And mold myself to be complete