I'm a liar.
I'm a fake.
I'm a fraud.
I hide from all of you.
You don't know who I really am.
The person before you is a shadow.
I write and yet it's not really me.
It doesn't represent the truth.
It's all nothing.
I'm not really here.
It's all your imagination.
I feel nothing and yet I feel everything.
So much of everything. I can't shut it down.
I can't get it to start.
I am stuck in a vortex of nothingness.
I am stuck in hole of everything.
I make no sense.
Sense is not possible.
And yet I'm silent.
Silence is golden.