PerfeCtion

I have perfected the craft

Of painting my skin to become

The flawless mask that people see

And hide what’s truly within

I have perfected the skill

Of become a chameleon

And change my skin to match

The problematic environment that I live in

Master of disguise

I start to loose who I truly am on the inside

Since I twisted and shift who I am so many time

Taught as a child not to draw attention to oneself

Fading into the background became second nature

Automatically done without a single word

I faded so well that the disguise became my true nature

My mask is my face

My face is my mask

My mask is my face

My prison is my mask that is permanently etched on my face

Manicured words are the jailers that hold the key to unlocking my prison

But my lips, the wardens, are not financed by my tongue or my brain

Who is in cahoots with my inner-self

They are in contract with puppet master who pull my strings

It is they who authorize the word that gets to see the light beyond my prison mask

I was sentenced to a lifetime of perfection

To live eternity as a slaved puppet

In the life that someone else has written

Soon enough my limbs will be made to act without my consent