Morphed to the face; skin-like.
Lips are nereky an illusion; hinged at the jaw with an invisible brace and locked with an obsolete key. 
Praying for the day when rust will settle and change the mask you see.
Eyes so big and wide it melts the heart; and swallows the remarks for no one to
find.

Its not that I dont care it all; its that I dont have the words to find.

An amateur stitched A halo and created my mask before i said hello.
Its created a sound proofed room with one patient; stir crazed and tormented by
the endless silence.
Rattled by the loneliness.
Begging for an opportunity to scream and be heard.

For Sarcasm isnt as fun when your only target is you

This patient has been astray so long she struggles to put to words together, and
has forever known the walls have been padded; but still is unsure about the
outside world.

Forced in a solitude, and tired of the endless cycle.
Each day she removes a bit of the walls insulation; hoping one day that someone,
somewhere will hear these screams and remove this cursed mask, for its
destroying me socially,

Yet a lot of insulation is gone but still quite a bit remains; for its been so
long i dont whats a mask and whats my own anymore.