Askance with your slitted eyes, slick with faked tears.
You’re grinning.
Your mouth stretching but never reaching your eyes.
You’re not the human you were.
I don’t know you.
Askance.
You’re viewing life through a myopic lens.
Human, you were.
Once.
Collecting suspicions and misguided evidence.
You’re searching in dark rooms for a source of sunlight.
Inconspicuous.
Unbalanced and clumsy
You’re slipping on the tight rope of your own fastening.
You’re hitting hard ground.
We could play with words until you become what you lie.
It’s too late.
This is coming to a close.
I miss the soul you held before your lens got foggy.
Askance.
Dawning Creations 
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