Hold on to the image
Of the reflection they see

Mirrored in countless eyes
They may as well be lies

For the energy I spend
On preserving my outside

I don't know what to trust
The ice, the sky, a mirage

Only myself, I can replay
My past, my present, a film

Of grey and brown hues
Stained with blood, but

Each is their own judge
Of the life they have lived

To love, to hate, to be loved
By oneself is the question

Nevermind the answer
That comes from others

I may be hypocrisy
But truth cannot be smothered.