This here’s where I show my mask’s insides
to strangers, with its lack of self-esteem
so obvious to even my blind eye.
And this here’s where I carry out my scheme
to damn myself for what my costume hides.
“Leave,” you told me, so I went away.
“Go to hell,” you said, I tried to die.
I begged at least some memories to stay.
“Leave no trace behind,” your cold reply.
No need to write me back. I gave that dream
back to you, remember? Yours misguides
me still, but never mind, I’ll be ok.
Comfort’s in the ear in which one confides–
here no one will hear me when I scream.