a P.ropostrious E.expectation that R.ealistically F.orgets E.veryone C.onnected to T.orment

I am more than a face you may remember.

I am more than a name you may have heard.

I am more than a number in system.

But I am afraid.

I have been hiding beneath a translucent sheet,

One that covers me from my head to my feet,

Ever since I discoverd the feeling of pain

A feeling I hope I will never have to experience again.

I have ceased to smile.

There is so sense in hiding your emotions

People will notice you're sad for a while,

But will not attempt to ask about your commotion. 

I keep my opinions to myself

Ideas are ideas, no longer a form of wealth.

No one wants to know how you think

It is simply a saddening truth that the world no longer wants to by in sync. 

People don't want the truth;

They crave the dazzle of mirrors and smoke:

They want a mystery that cannot be solved by a slueth. 

They don't care whether or not it's a hoax.

I don't know how I can emerge from my shell

I don't know why anyone wants to believe in the existence of hell.

I can't figure out how to stop being sad,

And I can't figure out how to stop feeling mad. 

I'm not sure if I want to forgive,

Or forget.

I do not know where to begin.

I do not know how I cannot fret.

The world is far to demanding,

It is always commanding:

Be beautiful, be happy, relax.

Those words make me feel as if I am being stabbed by an axe. 

I don't want to take off my mask.

I will then be more vulreunable, as I was before.

I will be exposed to the questions they ask,

And exposed to the pain forevermore.

I am afraid.

I pretend I am more than a number in the system.

I pretend I am more than a name you may have heard.

I pretend I am more than a face you remember. 

But I am not. 

I am nothing more a mask the people see

A mask that does not wish to be removed, but wishes to be worn taut 

I am nothing more than an average human being.