A couple of weeks old. It’s something I felt I had to write.

I am a fake, the pretending

A flake- and all deceiving

You can’t believe the gleams in eye

They could be tears I’ve told to lie


All I have to quiet dead-

Your hopeful lies swelling my head

And to ignore, I have your glance

At me, willing another chance


To separate my thoughts and yours

I hide my truths behind these doors

And I stay fixed upon the earth

And wear away all I am worth.



1 Comment

Filed under Art, Life, people, personal, poems, poetry, Thoughts

One response to “Liar

  1. lucienlachance

    You always manage to get out all the things I can’t seem to say properly.

    The last two lines are so incredibly true: we stay here, yet all that does is wear down the little bit that is left. It’s funny to me that being alive is worse than suicide. You’d think dying would always be the worst thing possible, yet it isn’t, not really. To me feeling, consciousness, is worse than anything that could come from death.

    I wonder sometimes if staying alive is worse on everyone around me than me just…doing what I’ve wanted to do. Every single day I stay I feel the foundation below me crumble just a little more. I get worse and worse. And all I can ask myself: is it even worth it? Even a little?

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