In the etheral beauty of your diamond smile,
I have noted the slightest sound of buzzing,
Wasps in your mind flying around again, no doubt,
Stinging you petulantly with that old familiar venom,
The other dancers in this parade never do see the crash coming,
Though it's always been so blatantly obvious to me,
But fully equipt with my own wasp repellant,
I have to ask you, "When will you get your own?"
This hot liquid attraction never will fade, dear,
While you play charades with the future,
And dance, near flawlessly, with the religious "should-do's"
Always in the foyer of your plastic sanctuary,
He will be there,
Waiting for just one of those lovely diamond teeth of yours,
To break out of your porcelain mask and shatter,
Busting out into white powder upon the floor,
And you will fall to the ground, grieving in sorrow,
As I still do at times myself,
Lapping it up, breathing it in, like the junkie you will always be,
Never realizing until it is far too late,
That the remainder of your mask has crumbled as well,
Turning into just another sugary-sweet hit,
That you are desperately trying to devour with avengance and haste,
Before they pull you away again from your medication,
And force thier version of "better" into you one more time
"Put back on the mask"
"Pretend, pretend, pretend..."
"Now smile and say you're okay"
Isn't it fun, being an addict?