This Time

Subtle,

It is nighttime.

With stars.

And silence

So deep and treacherous

Is the crevasse of emptiness.

It goes unchallenged.

And the chasm grows deeper.

Wider.

I am not sure

Why we hide ourselves behind

Beautiful masks.

Other than to shield us from

Ourselves.

I don't like what I see

When I look into the glass,

Greeted only by a grey face

With greyer eyes.

Washed out by the sea.

I am not aware of the reason

Behind this,

I don't know why

I feel like a heartless

Bitch.

I guess,

That perhaps,

I may be

That ugly word

Sometimes.

That one word

That nobody has called me,

But myself.

Because who knows me better than

Me?

And the words don't align like they ought to.

But I cannot untangle them in my mind.

They are some pile of broken string,

Just tossed together.

I don't know.

But the words don't feel right.

But they're all that I've got.