I strip off this mask,
and stare in the mirror.
Why is the face staring back,
something I fear?

Perhaps it's the eyes,
empty and cold.
Holding back countless lies,
beyond self control.

These eyes, they question
all that I am.
They wonder what I've become.
and where I now stand.

On a line that's been crossed,
many times before.
So many, in fact, my feet
are unbearably sore.

A pain- that is nonetheless,
self-inflicted.
Excruciating pain- a result
of being restricted,

twisted, and tangled up in
white lies.
The end resulting with
self despise,

pity, and an empty hope to change.
stuck as a different person,
in a place that's so strange.

And foreign to most,
it can't be reached within
ranges coast to coast.

This place is hidden.
Barricaded.
Uncomfortably cold.

It is the withered insides of one's soul.

It can only be discovered
on the verge of desperation.
When all you are is an outcast,
in isolation.

If you find yourself here,
lift your head.
Look across the cracked path,
once luscious - now dead.

The trail you walked along,
that led you here.
The only thing that kept you running
was fear.

This.
Is.
Where.
I.
Stand.

And I will make an escape.
I will erase your opinions and create...

What I aspire to be.