A loose facade projecting across your life,
would you have time to pick up the knife?

Lost time writing, daily,
all the time to do it, my way,
with every button pressed,
I am sinking further behind your facade,
desperate play,
played out, your way.

And in the beginning a black mask,
sore hands,
regretted past,
facade of your longing.

Take the mask down,
be sure to look around,
count your blessings,
don't let the mask become you,
a person exempt from courteous do's.