Counterfeit Character

I know what would make you happy. I’ll sew my mouth shut as tight as I can, just for you. As the needle pierces my lips, your sinister smile is all I can see. My voice has become aimless to your ears. If I crack a smile, you produce a frown. Am I really this troublesome in your perspective? Your character is unreal, and you’ve lost yourself completely. We used to be comedians together. We were orange and red in a box of black and white crayons. We’d perform at random on our stages of cement and tile and make a whole crowd laugh. Now as you awkwardly walk by and barely grin, all I can do is pretend it doesn’t bother me. My comedy has offically gone solo. Maybe I’m not being lucid enough. It’s evident that you’re just a phony act. How could someone be so simulative? How could someone play it off as if they've just changed? You’re so incredibly fickle, no one has any idea what to expect every time you open your mouth. Your stage of cement and tile is tainted with the act of a sober-sided parasite. Can you hear me in the silent, unhappy audience? Note that I’m not cheering you on, I’m screaming for you to get the hell off your stage. Let me ruin your performance and make myself happy. Let me sew your mouth shut as tight as I can. As I hold you down, as the needle pierces your lips, maybe you’ll finally comprehend my thoughts. Maybe my point will finally get across to you.