It's like this false metallic taste in my mouth,
my realization of your fake life
running parallel to mine.

You are wearing it all like some sort of dirty bird,
covered in black grime.
Alone with everyone except yourself,
this madness you love to wear and flaunt.

With all the substance of a gray mist
you are falling quicker than your wings can stand.
Stained with life and this lack of gain
that you love to hold so dear.