old - facade

There's an art in seclusion.
Production in depression.

Standing tall in apperance.
But failing in desolation.

The facade keeps standing.
While the walls are closing in.
Claustrophobic tenderness is kicking in.

Drowning on the inside since im not letting it out.
This behaviour is unhealthy without a doubt.

Wishing me the best.
While slowly stabbing deeper.
Unsure of what you want.
Kiling me inside.

Just be honest with yourself.
And honestly say.
What it is that you want with me.

Because the mask is growing heavy.
Slowly forgetting whats beneath.

Let me tear down the facade.