Its All a Mall.

 The Belarusian Mall Poem:

Im pretending not to like it here; look at all these fakes.

Who am I? Do I look like I'm supposed to look like yet?

Nothing fancy now, no new insights here, no false pride; full PRIDE OK.

There is nothing behind the eyes, a fixed gaze that screams: Help me!!! No-one is coming though, no body cares. 

Anyone who has been saved is definitely not here anymore.

 This white shirt and wow these sweets are fucking amazing - confusion - bright lights - wall to wall with the beautifully deranged. I want to lick, stick it all until i'm numb and no longer worry about the BIG worry

or until I fit..........IN.