Conceal the imperfections and cover-up the flaws;
painting over what we have come to know oh so dearly.
“Why bother with this painful process? you’re merely a façade lacking any interest.”, he said.
Her response was, “I’m just putting on my face.”
Create, cut, and paste yourself into a newfound tainted identity.
Manipulate yourself a new soul.
And her response was, “Don’t mind me; I’m just putting on my face.”
Applying your own sanity back piece by piece;
oh, it’s what you’ve com to know; an infinite disguise;
a blank canvas so very hollow but equally as transparent.
Accentuate your imperfect being and try to take away the empty.
The pieces never quite stay together.
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