As I see myself so happy, I am hurt.
There’s no reason for me to be happy anymore.
When my lips wouldn’t stretch further in a fake smile,
I find something wailing, unbearably loud, inside.
That shrill noise goes on breaching all my fortresses,
Setting to fire, my mighty monuments of fantasy,
And, ah, hope after all these years of pining in the inferno.
Sometimes I wish I could just pull it out of myself,
The deadly masque, which like symbiote,
Sticks to me, plays hoaxes through me.
The masque, that has slowly started,
To imitate me, but in subtle ways,
So very different.
Dreams that are never going to come true,
Why, O’ why, my dear heart,
Still so busy weaving them?
Why, wait for imaginary footsteps,
While living in a palace of glass,
In the middle of a desert lake?
At last like your only well wisher,
Like a hopeless Knight in shining armour,
For you, he never will be,
I wish to tell you of a few truths,
You’ve already always known as have I–
In the end, you will be the one, starkly alone.
Only your joy and blood will be hurt when,
Which already is too late, you decide it’s time;
To see the clear truths, that had been untouched all along.
That now you pretend to see and ignore.