Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2016
the curtain rolls aside
The stage sets
The lights flicker on
Everybody is waiting.
And suddenly
it begins
The fake facade
The fake tears that cascade
This entire thing is an act
Nothing but predators in the night.
And though everyone wants to fight
Things just get too **** tight.
We want to be exposed to the light
But the play begins to take flight
And stunts are executed at devestating heights

This play
The theatre is all an act.
The metaphorical phrase for life.
And ****** at best
The masquerade of faults
The sins
The lies
Beginning to become more of a circus.
And as this blood runs red
This...act runs dark.
The curtains still pried open
Set on the openess of a prairie.
These people.
The ones who lead us on
The never ending Mirage.
Until this act is exposed
The audience shall be snatched into grievience.
The fakes strut around us.
They show the underside quickly.
The ugly scene
That proved to be the ******.
The jaw dropping ****-canned conclusion.
But imagine the actors
Exposed and afraid.
Alone without makeup and masks.
Turning until someone asks
where the ***** the director?
Abandonment from the puppeteer himself
Waiting for everyone *else
Show themselves
For who they really are.
A complicated way of conveying a simple message: Dont be fake.
Its not very good though, but im trying. Sorry guys
Błeeding Dįamøndš
Written by
Błeeding Dįamøndš  16/M/Denver, Colorado
(16/M/Denver, Colorado)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems