15 steps Suivre l’histoire

It's 15 steps across my bedroom floor to the phone on the dresser.

15 Steps across the carpet, cluttered in the lives I've lead.

The masks I've worn and shed.

The people I've been who fade into oblivion.

One day I'm a driver, getting you from point A to B. The mask breaks, and it falls to the floor.

One day I'm the repair man, fixing your things. that mask breaks and falls to the floor.

One day I'm the confidant, listening to your fears and worry.

Another I'm your friend, lifting you up.

Another I am pushing back, setting boundaries.

Another I'm working late, trying to stop the company from folding.

Another I'm standing and watching a homeless man shoot up on the subway, unable to call for help but unable to look away.

Another I'm drinking with friends.

Another I'm drinking alone.

Another I'm getting chewed out by my boss for something I didn't do.

Another I'm arguing with my boss over stuff he didn't do that put me in danger.

Another I'm a father.

Another I'm a son.

Another I'm the enemy.

Another I'm the one.

All these masks fall one by one at the end of the day, breaking into pieces.

Every day I take those 15 steps.

"Why is it so hard?" you ask.

With all these broken masks, my feet never stop bleeding.