It's Nothing, really.

I could do it I really could. No one would know it was me. A smaller shoe, or an unlocked door, leather gloves and my stuff missing. I could do it I really could, make it look like a robbery. Door left wide, money gone, signs of struggle, things gone wrong. Cuts on hands and arms as well as I send myself straight to hell. I could do it I really could, make it look ike a robbery gone bad. Pillow to face and bruised nose, stray blood on bed and cloths. Small details and little things, that most might miss I would know. Keep it quiet keep it hidden, must not let out the forbidden, things not need to be known what goes on inside is shown. Leave no trace to incriminate, anyone else of my fate. Time to go and start the show, raise the curten oh so slow and then the end .... to work I go.

Can then not see the pain inside, can they not see the pain I hide, how could they I am good with masks, I will fool them to the last day, it's how it always is. Sorrowful eyes that no one sees, screams that no one hears but me. Spiralling downwards into the sea, and yet i fool them all. I could do it I know I could, fake it make it in the heart is good. Show no one, show nothing, just work and home with none to say. Slowly fading removing things, a computer a tv and a couple rings. Carefully maticulousely in my head, plan it out until I'm dead. No more pain and no more masks, it shall all end real fast. Back from work and no one cares, at the computer with long stairs, talking laughing in a world that's fake, pretending till tomorrows take, another way to fake a scene, and stage a murder for a suicide. It's nothing ... really.

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