Don’t believe the face I cover myself with.

I’ve worn it just for the souls I’m surrounded by,

and the hunters I can’t escape.

The concealment has sheathed me for too long.

It’s driven me deeper into my own anarchy.

I’ve reached the point where I can’t return back home.

I need to isolate myself so I don’t harm the ones I care about.

My own doubt, insecurities, and lack of self-acceptance has ran through my veins like a poison.

I can’t rid them until I finally decide to bleed myself out.