The whispers don't stop.
Won't stop.
You don't really want them to stop.
They remind you.
You are ugly.
You are fake.
You are mean.
Nobody has ever looked past the front you put on.
Why would they?
They don't have the time to care.
They are important.
They are warriors and healers and helpers.
They play.
They play the game you are not allowed to take part in and they win.
You wish you knew how to toss dice.
You do not.
What are you?
A burden.
(mirror mirror on the wall
they can't catch me before I fall.)
