There are questions you asked, with answers you fear,

The fog lights that wail, and the things you hold dear,

You are daunted by drowning, and scarred by demise,

You approach with precaution, but fail to think twice,

You lie with each sound, you lie with each letter,

You lie about wellbeing, of which you lie even better,

But there is always a time, when facades will deplete,

Your own character of mimicry,  your own people of fleet,

Those you have lied to, will see you are wrong

For your fake rhapsody of kindness, is simply a song.