Facade

The woman cries in her bedroom with her hands clutched around her pillow to drown out her sobs.
Her life is calculated and measured to be the right way. 

"Formulas that are memorized and well rehearsed fall into dusty neglect and ruin." 

Tomorrow comes unwanted and today passes unmourned, 
back to the mirror and all it's cold answers, 
back to the mirror of reflections and crooked reality, 
back to the mirror that nenver lies, 
baqck to the mirror, 
arranged in a wilderness pattern that enhances the quagmire. 

Empty, 
full of nothing but self and your own interests.
Empty, 
what a lovely home, all well furnished and brightly clean but still empty and cold.
Empty, 
full of everything unneeded and nothing warm.
Empty,
shunned and left behind, never gazinbg beyond the end of your own idea of perfection. 
Empty, 
like the painted, marionette eyes, that see nothing but what is pointed at. 
Empty, 
all glossy and full of nothing valuable, only the used up memories from yesterday and the loneliness of waiting for tomorrow. 
Empty, 
"all fair and clean without..."
Empty, 
echoes of regret that reverberate through your mind and expose the cracks in the facade that she wears as a face.

Loneliness breeds new fears.
Then laughter comes along always tucked in shame,
childhood fears and tabloid papers that make you red in the face,
walk the path and see the shadows. 

"See them... Hear them..." 

Of course they will laugh and remind you that you cant trust them.
There is no amount of alcohol, therapy or journies into the spirit world that can break the connection,
nothing can help you fit in.

"This way or that way..."

Frustration breeds anger and your anger stays silent.
Silence threatens stability.
Stay and try to understand the impossible. 
Some things are uncontrollable and choice is not always an option.

Who would want this? 
To build a house of fear surrounded by stone? 


T.S. Deary 
7/25/23