SavingFace

A man sat in an empty room in front of a mirror today... a single light bulb was left a burning, swinging overhead like an idea left unyearning, even only slightly less concerning, were the unlit bulbs even though his ideas were steady churning... he takes a breath, his reflection in repose, like the world had gone and froze, for they know not what he knows, and he exhales... the tears they well up in his eyes, but he dare not let them see him cry, because they would wonder why, and he would have to pass them by... the light began to flicker, but he passed on the liquor, because it'd be too much quicker, to drown in the elixer, and the habit is a bitch, with not the will to fix her... he closes his eyes, and looks inside, for the answers he did seek, an inward glance of what's inside, is not simply for the meek...  He stands up and moves forth, coming to the mirrors edge, like he's standing on a ledge and just waiting on a push, so he can fall and crash, he's itching like under his skin he's got a rash, he throws his head forward into the mirror he did smash...  It was his rage, as he stares into the shards, it was a face off, he'd tear his face off, it wouldn't be that hard, if it would give a second chance, another dealing of the cards... his alarm went off, it's come down to the wire, time to put his smile on and return to being the liar, because everything's ok and life is oh so great, maybe he could breathe again, until then he would wait...