Sense of humor
slowly fading away.
Was it a tool for pleasure?
Or just a mask per-se.

It was constantly in me.
The first thing i would use
When a friend was in need
Or when i needed to diffuse.

My constant alter ego,
Some said was annoying.
It kept myself sane.
Bad moods, it was destroying

White Lies seem believable,
Problems seem to be small.
An intensity eraser,
I subterfuge it all

My moral compass,
It would navigate me
Through treachEry and deception.
So the real me I could see

Emotional storm blew by
and scattered it around.
I'm in mental distress.
I need to be sound.

Lifes problems are the same
with or without it.
it helps my state of mind.
And helps me not to quit.

Without it i feel lost
and have become more rigid.
Everything's so serious,
My heart becoming frigid

I need it back soon,
It's part of my soul.
You can't buy or make it.
It's acquired as you get old

The little I have left,
I will need too nurture
and water it like a seed.
To grow back in the future.

I will have it back,
tattered and scarred.
My psyches fuel.
I will now keep it under guard.

Do I blame the storm ?
or how it got started?
or my reliance on it?
or that my heart was outsmarted ?