Faker
The eye can only stretch so far.
Your perception of me is nothing new,
nothing these ears haven’t heard before.
Why not dissect me like a frog,
pin me down, unzip my costume
and expose exactly what lies inside:
sharp edges, sarcasm,
lengthy explanations for useless information,
endless wide-eyed expressions
of love or lust, or both.
Behind this beating heart,
can you see the Nothing?
It’s seeping, seeping
into every organ, out of every pore,
fading me to empty.
Don’t worry, everything can be
fixed easily with cosmetic surgery,
I’ll become faker than your child’s
Barbie doll. It seems to be the trend.
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