Ever since I was born ignorant,
I was never, ever,
Ever,
Surprised by their sympathetic stares,
The lines in their cheeks—
In their brows,
In their smiles,
That never flattened to sincerity.

That day,
I learned that everyone was,
Fake,
Like plants,
Like perfect,
Plastic plants,
Neither living,
Nor dying.

They sobbed,
Behind their foreign,
Giggles,
And spoke velvet lies,
Spoke obscenities,
Spoke of nothing,
Spoke of emptiness,
Behind color and sound.

And the gray tears,
Mixed with transparent,
Watercolor,
With leaked paints,
Of pain,
Pencils,
Of paroxysm,
Of unmistakable dolor.

They called me unstable,
I call myself,
All right.
Sane.