Full Stop. Poem by Perfection Is Flawed

it's getting too hard to breathe.
once, twice, thrice. slipped
through
my fingers.

regret. strange, for but trivial reasons.
it hurts. wrench, the heart weighs down, painfully.

the climax of a song. listen, the notes, the volume.
rising and falling, jerkily, a soul between fingers
that open and close.

eyes widening, heart beating to a tune.
rising and falling, a man's chest before death.
rising, falling, rising, falling, falling.
unmoving.

deathsongs playing.
hurting like regret.
but not as much.

bow. this perfect facade before an audience.

so perfect that no one, no one knows.
that i am still
human.

no more tears, lest this mask
shatters.

do you know me?
or are you just lying.
to me and yourself.

does anybody think they know?
or have you just brushed past me.

knowing without knowing.

my apologies, mother. my apologies, father.
you said not to lie.

but i did.

i always have
been.

stereotypical. am i? am i not. mindlessly.

that is enough. stop talking to me, it hurts too much.
it hurts me more than it hurts you, you hurt me without realizing it, do you.
there is no point questioning, because i already

know the answer.
even if you do not.

what is this feeling of emptiness,
this void that swallows
nothing and everything.

wondering if what i touch is really
intangible.

i know. you are human as well.

we all have little, little masks that help us
to survive in such ferocity, in such ignorance.

in the end, the masks can no longer be removed.
touching such plastic skin.

nobody knows.
people think that they care, but they
never
know
anything.