Faker-a poem

Do they know?
Have I been figured out?
Have they seen right through my mask?
I’m so worried, I can’t answer these things.
How did it come to this,
That I have used those I love to further myself?
Why do I do it?
I’ve been so used to holding everyone and everything at bay,
That I’ve lost my moorings.
I can’t even remember if I had moorings to begin with.
The sickening feelings of loneliness and abandonment are sinking in,
Every passing minute I can feel them soaking up my soul like a sponge;
Too much longer and I’m gonna drown
In my own sea of worthlessness.
It’s almost over now, as I sit in this tub contemplating suicide.
All I gotta do is reach for the straight razor, and that’s it.
Then I realize how stupid and selfish that is,
And how much pain I’d cause God.
I limply drop the razor and make a vow.
A vow to never do something so stupid again.
But more importantly, to stop being a faker.