Mood B, A

Pretense aside, I shift nervously
 from contentment into
 something like
   vanity.
Deeper, deeper; slowly
 so as not to
 arouse suspicion.
   gently.
Murmuring lies betwixt my
 smiling thoughts
 it lies in wait; it
   lies.

Pretense aside, I fail
 once again at my
 precious attempts to be
   God.
Without forceful display; mourning
 privately with no need for
 volume or attention;
   softly.
Whispering lays its breath on my
 fragile thoughts
 it tries to save; it
   tries.