Pretense This is not what I read Just gripping by my toes and trying very hard not to worry Isn't it fair to warn everyone around me? Trying to breathe but the oxygen is tearing at the seams I should just know that everyone is out to get me Murals Painted on a spreadsheet Counting all the days I chose stability over my needs Realizing I rely on this much coffee daily Being aware is far worse than not ever knowing My mental frame says to not give me any pity I'd rather nobody know that this is who has become me Walking is hard when I've overexerted my bad knees Sun poisoning on my skin is not what I need At the end of the day, maybe it's cancer that's gonna kill me