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Turn away from the yelling,
block out the words.
It doesn't have to be real,
if nothing is heard.

Mommy, Daddy, 'I love you' say
but it's all a part of this act they play.
Turn away from the glares,
block out the screaming.
It's not real if you're only dreaming.
Brother, Sister, holding close;
they're all they've got among fallen heroes.

This is how it falls:
the endless dance, the stiff facade.
One day the party will stumble,
someone will see.
No matter what you mumble,
the stutter will still be;
there for all to see.

It's real.