Bored with the anvils dropping, bored with the lack of faith The refelections signaling my dead brown hair. Settleing with a drug without substance. behind there is a light, claiming objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. Mindless self hate bodies actions I ignore and sometimes taste the unhappiness. I am content nevertheless focus remains on my self worth. Overstated, loving life in fear of ending it. Habits remain, no change pleasure entrapts me as to you I am the same