could you tell

every blood seeping day is a wirlwind of the same ongoing events week after week. I guess you could say the die down from tragic demise and reluctant theatricals has made everything in the aftermath like cricket at the end of an alley.

Could you tell?

alarm after alarm after alarm, reliving the same day like im on happy death day. Seeing the same people, retriving same activies day in and day out. But a smile is whiped on my face. Walking around with a pound of conserved misery and staggering concepts seeping out at every creak to the seal. But remains a smile thoughout day in and out.

But can you tell?

Can you tell is the same smile that had smiled through countless events churning reality in which had been shape shifting from terror to terror. the warping of emotions from utter hatred to mushy counterfitted feelings, back to regret and grief; then every feeling placed into a wash and randomzied like drawing popsicle sticks in kindergrden.

how can you tell?

Every tourmenting occurance is just a repeat on a past event, every mind ingulfing episode in which my head is tormented by the words around me scrapted into hateful idioms. How can one see that on ones face, who would want to?

but can you ever tell?