Cold Ash

The warmth is all gone. The fire burnt out.

My heart is cold like ash, the color I wear in my hair.

I don't feel a thing. 

I search and search again, but there's no care in the air.

I don't see anyone.

Strip by strip, I peel away my cover.

The colder and colder it feels.

Everyone looks away...

afraid to face what might be real. raw. genuine.

They're not used to it.

Because everyone stands behind a filter.

Well guess what?

I am sick of filters.

Filtering out what's really me.

Why must I keep going on?

Because without filters, you cannot survive this world.

We live in a generation of filters.

Filter your personality, your profile and your photos.

And you're all set.

Who's who? 

Can you tell it's really them?