When I’m drowning, they are distant and skeptical
When I’m sailing, they gather to observe the spectacle

My cheeks used to be made of roses, my pupils were once starred
How did I become just a chew toy to use and discard?

They don’t savour their words, they just spit them
Basking smugly in the fruits of their mayhem

I love them when they don’t, they disgust me when they do
I am cast to play both the vixen and the shrew

Their promises are dull distant echoes that I no longer seek
Unvielled and unmasked, they have lost their mystique

I would rather embrace isolation before being misunderstood
I would rather swallow loneliness before choking on their falsehood