Let the mystery be.

Not the real me
You don't know her, she says.
I'd hate to know
you speak soft
and tread light
That you hold me up
and everyone you know
while you barely
steady your balance
I'd hate to know
that life and death
are laughable
to you
but you
revere both
especially death
that morbid motherfucker
I am glad I don't know
the real you
Let's just let the mystery be.