Soapy

Awash with the bubbling froth
in fantasy's foam,
my life lived in the fleeting transparent circles
rising as illusions
turned reality.

Each facet of my existence
perfectly preserved
within a small air wisp of lie,
till it was all the world thought
precious and gold.

Constantly having to add more of deception's
detergent to clean away
my skin's deepest stains which scar my soul,
didn't really work,
but ah, the delicate masks
of flawless, bubble expression
they surely inspired.

Alas, a wind from circumstance's storm
brought a pinprick to my game.
No soap afterwards to cleanse
the vile and evil mar inside my life,
all the bursts to my fabrication,
floating in my self-pity bath
guilt's water never other than cold.