They look at me. Guys, gals, dogs and cats. Staring as if I was a failed science experiment. The fool's eyes weigh mine towards the Earth. My dark smeared eyes melt into warm stains of tears.
No, not here.
They will see my weakness.
The men often steal glances, but this fool has nothing to offer.
"They just think you're beautiful." That's what I prefer to think. They are stunned by my radiance.
Hand in hand I walk myself alone down a dark, lonely thought process. My eyes lost in the night sky. My illusion has worked. Not on the fools, but the fool of fools.
I have survived the day drowning every shiver of doubt in the lake of lies. Who would've remembered the dead float.
Illusionists may never reveal the tactics of their act, but most fools have already discovered my ignorance.
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