The Mole.

When you’re wishing there was someone you could call
And  you wonder if you should just change who you are,
Rearrange your morals
Give away your persona.
To just feel the lightest touch on your skin,
For someone to mend you.

And you pull your hair out by the roots
And you fool yourself once again,
There’s still a chance that you may just win.

What’s so wrong with being lonely
Besides your brain overloading?
Thoughts of malicious content,
And you sit and wonder if there even is a moral in you to give in.

You can’t fight it off,
You bury it.
You hide it in your soul,
And you are now the mole.