In My Honest Hour

In my honest hour, I am a liar in the glass.

I'm chipped and shards of skin fall from my failed complexion.

Smooth skin has become rough to the touch.

Emerald pools filled with dirt.

My fingernails hurt from all the hard work.

My legs give out from all the self doubt.

Fingers no longer clutch because they are broken.

Lips sealed because they are unspoken.

All of these made me appear what you make me seem.

The outer shell I call my body crumples and shows the ghost inside.

There are cobwebs in the corners and flights.

Broken candle sticks that have no more light.

In my honest hour, I am truly a fool thinking that you could help me through the tunnels of the deep underground where the rodents roam.