****** onto this gilded stage,
constructed upon envy, jealousy and hate.
Where past pains, for a moment, are immune and fall away.
We cannot run from, what we break, the each and everyone we betray,
Myself, you, any honor and truth, again, aware, I am of silent berate.
Vexed to explain this, to you, myself, let alone the adorning world.
Fear churns and flags the thoughts in my head, as I unfurl
The recant, of my notions, as not one’s I’d say.
In each aftermath, my feelings awaken, hauntingly every day.
I don a mask, a guise, hoping this pain will not recognize my kind,
Do not trust me, my actions, for there is no respect I’d stand behind.
My public life, a choreography of spun lies
for the “greater good of others,” to imbue.
Trust, I have none, even as I stand on the red carpet beside you.
This life, one not deserving any award.
It’s been calculated, guarded, for I am quite weak,
Meek and vulnerable as the words written for me to say,
the coincidence holds no allure.
Just more salve to cover my emotional sores,
Toiled and blistered by the years of holding
onto these self inflicted wounds upon my soul.
Only a select few see these images of me as they unfold,
Personal scars map the non-tellings,
my legacy's truth such intricately woven deceitful tapestry
I too, do not believe, yet again, I must face,
I am not the master of another’s fathoming
the vexatious me, they soon will behold.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
****** onto this gilded stage,
constructed upon envy, jealousy and hate.
Where past pains, for a moment, are immune and fall away.
We cannot run from, what we break, the each and everyone we betray,
Myself, you, any honor and truth, again, aware, I am of silent berate.
Vexed to explain this, to you, myself, let alone the adorning world.
Fear churns and flags the thoughts in my head, as I unfurl
The recant, of my notions, as not one’s I’d say.
In each aftermath, my feelings awaken, hauntingly every day.
I don a mask, a guise, hoping this pain will not recognize my kind,
Do not trust me, my actions, for there is no respect I’d stand behind.
My public life, a choreography of spun lies
for the “greater good of others,” to imbue.
Trust, I have none, even as I stand on the red carpet beside you.
This life, one not deserving any award.
It’s been calculated, guarded, for I am quite weak,
Meek and vulnerable as the words written for me to say,
the coincidence holds no allure.
Just more salve to cover my emotional sores,
Toiled and blistered by the years of holding
onto these self inflicted wounds upon my soul.
Only a select few see these images of me as they unfold,
Personal scars map the non-tellings,
my legacy's truth such intricately woven deceitful tapestry
I too, do not believe, yet again, I must face,
I am not the master of another’s fathoming
the vexatious me, they soon will behold.
