Narrow Path

Shambling down a narrow path,
I clasp on to my chains,
Swallowing sticky spit.

Mouth is dry,
Stomach is empty,
Mind is gone.

Most is only effort,
driven by necessity.

The need to look normal,
In this world where everything is expected to be OK.

Otherwise,
Endless questions will await,
With unknown answers.

No more questions,
No more answers,
I'm sick of it.

So here you are,
a plastered face,
with a fake plastered smile.