A Collection of Lies

I have only ever known pain,

Lie. 

My heart is very much a mystery,

Lie.

I am too nervous to unravel,

Lie.

I have let it sit submerged in water, fearful for mold to grow,

Lie.

I have never been afraid to die,

Lie. 

I am afraid to die,

Lie. 

We remember the parts of ourselves we want to keep,

Lie.

We recognize it as the perfect median,

Lie. 

We are stagnantly content,

Lie.