They called me a liar,
and I believed it for nine years.

Whenever I was anxious,
I told myself a story—
too warm to be a lie,
too cold to be true.

I found a new hero every day,
only to lose them every night.

That’s when the world ended.
Reality became my broken language.
I couldn’t read lips—
they were all smiles,
and the joke was on me.