Who are you, really?nnI often see you switching masksnBut I never know if the cheek I'm strokingnIs flesh or fictionnnMy own cheek is stained with tearsnThat disappear into the rushing brook belownNot tears of heartbreak; only of angernAnger that a person could be so unapologetically uglynAnger that I always brought the glass to my lipsnAfter you filled it with liquid facadesnSo thinly veiled that I could see right throughnAnd I drank even though I wasn't thirstynI was just looking for somethingnTo drown out that ever-present emptinessnnYou thought you were getting away with somethingnBut it was known all alongnI was just too defeated to raise a voice against itnI don't like myself any more than you like menWhich isn't saying muchnnWhere are you, really?nnYou've got that distant look in your eyesnYour mind seems elsewherenAre you thinking of her?nOr maybe it's just all those pills you atennToday, the vacant you isn't even herenAlthough you swore you would benYour remnants are all over this fucking housenNaked flesh captured on filmnThe artwork of projected sentimentnThe dinner awaiting your arrivalnEmptied wine glasses from drunken nights pastnThese objects in your absencenAlmost add up to the whole of younWhich isn't saying muchnnWhat are you, really?nnOnly a monster could lie so ruthlesslynCould give us both that piercing starenStraight-faced and with such convictionnAnd promise we were the only onenCould swear of such falsitiesnOn the grave of a fallen lovenI'm convinced you have no soul, no emotions, no shamenAre you much more than a poorly decorated outer shell?nnWhen I speak my mindnGive you my two centsnI toss the coins into your open mouthnThey roll down your throatnAnd sink to the bottom without a soundnYou're an empty fucking voidnYour skin's your only substancenWhich isn't saying muchnnHow are you, really?nnBits and pieces of your shell are flaking offnThose hairline cracks at your temples are spreadingnThe rift between yourself and the ones you've deceived is wideningnNo amount of pills will make the tremors in your brain go awaynYour world's about to shatter and your lies won't save you nownA few crooked beams remain in your foundationnBut that isn't saying much.n