There is no Facade.

Laying in the bed, in the dark,
Amidst the flood of feelings pushing negativity
Attempting to steamroll me into dirt from which I came.
Talking to myself
Listing the emotions and itemising hurts
The compounding unresolved triggers of a week;
Accepting it all;
Compassionate reasoning to slice though
the cries of a hurt Ego.
Does any of this matter?
How do I matter?
How do you find joy when there is none?
When maybe – a glimmer of hope
will eventually coalesce
from the scattered remnants of me.

There is no whole at this point
Only the black hole
and the supernova
Vying for control of this soul.