Pages torn from a fractured novel
How can I construct a romanticized reality when the reality I'm romanticizing has come tumbling down around me?
Cracks in the glass, only seen by me. The crazy glue I put on only makes it okay for everybody else.
I'm backed into a corner by lies and deceit and nothing has the strength to pull me out.
I'm walking through a dream, my head is filled with a haze and I have no hope for myself.