I fix my smile and compromise,
The ghosts that haunt behind blind eyes,
For someone my friends could recognise,
And not soul that they despise,
A painted face is sly disguise,
For twisted morals behind which lies,
A deeper urge to be unwise,
To fill lungs so no breath resides,
And drown the old me 'til it dies,
A shell that has a face like mine,
But nothing me on the inside.
To become new, I realise,
The old version must first demise.