When facade dies

There will be times when I break and cry,
times where I am on the verge of destruction,
the atoms in me cry,
I feel it, I feel it;
I smell chemicals of hatred,
and the passion of hellfire,
my throat a blockage of screams,
as I plead for an escape.

There will be times when I break and cry,
times where I imagine myself,
sitting by the building ledge,
mind howling and heart barking,
like a devil of lamentation,
as I plead for an escape.

Soon, I say,
it will be over,
and there will be that girl who wears her smile,
so thin and fragile her porcelain skin might shatters,
soon –

But not now. It’s too soon.

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