Stockholm
I cry the tears you use to buff your mask of pretend innocence
I’m in a room looking at everyone through the one way mirror
You’re the only one who knows I’m here as you parade around in your polished disguise
Every attempt I make trying to get them to see my side is worthless
I consider escape but the labyrinth of instability outside the door is far worse than the pain of futility
Foxgloves and fungi will fill my lungs as I choke out my self defense but your response is always the same.
Lose the fucking attitude.
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