Shaken

It's 4:53am. I kind of feel like a sham tonight. Like a person who wears a mask, and the mask has become stuck. To the people around me, I feel so alien and wrong. It's like the skin on my bones are not real, like the eyes that see aren't mine. The face I look at in the mirror isn't me, but a facade, who am I? I keep on asking that question. It repeats in my mind like the beating of a fucking drum. Who am I? Am I this person who loves being around others, who melts into their forgotten words of love? Or am I this monstrous being who indulges in flesh being ripped apart? Oh how am I still alive? How I keep asking, how am I really living as a corpse? Who here gleams above others, who here has not feigned emotion to a degree? Show me a proper hero to my villain. Show me the man who is without sin, show me the pure angel of light, so that we may tear into their veins of impurity! Fuck society, and fuck you.