Observation
Drifting through this boundlessness, this madness of our making
Your mask- a physical object
My mask- you, the pretenders
Pretenders you might be, i hide behind you.. watching, judging, waiting
For what? that remains to be seen
Aren't we all just trying to remain consequential?
So who's the real pretender?
Feeling the armor wearing thin
Feeling the sting of time bearing down
Heavy shield down
Here I am
Rising from my apathy, lest I cease to be
Embracing you all in the making of our own madness