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Doing a dance,
to wear a mask,
To play a game that you can’t stomach...
Just so that the truth doesn’t have to face you,
The way you recoil from reflections of yourself.

You’d forsake your happiness, your health —
                                                  You would burn it all.

To do a dance, to wear a mask
To play a game you’ll always lose.
                                                  To look in a mirror...
             To tell an image that it’s anything but you.

But it's in that moment, that you'll find
                                you tell the unfamiliar truth
As you bleed and feed your own obliterated youth...

To feel, and then
                          to lose —
Just like the loss you always knew
                          you’d find in disappointment.
Like an unholy anointment
                          of your least desirable possessions
That retire from the heavens
                          Back to you.


To betray, and to amuse
                                                          A­lone.
The ides of irony rejoice!
               For they’ve found their lamb... or
their ever-dying muse.
                 Forsaking life itself, you clamor
To see others just like you.

And maybe, one day, one will choose
           the path that you can’t leave,
As it reciprocates to thee —
            Two partners in misery, fated to excuse
the waste of each other...
            until they find there’s nothing left.

To feel the flame within its breath consumed.

Wearing a mask,
To live a lie,
                And die a death,
                Whose dance you six-times misstep


                              And on the seventh, betrays you.

talkshows and the yellow press
get excited in excess
over his shenanigans
that delight his faithful fans

rumors of these *** affairs
strong words for all macho players
     in the game of social thrones
texts with threatening undertones
     for minorities and women
     treating immigrants like demons

neither fans nor his opponents 
seem to notice the components
of the white house strategy

     throw them bones
     fodder for the yellow press

and while  they fight
clandestinely out of sight
works the Trumpian policy
 
money laundering   blatant lies
scolding allies   breaking ties
adoring foes   praising those
     usurpers of democracies
     experts in atrocities
slowly yet persistently
     undermine  civility  
     with foul language 

court the aristocracies 
         of oil sheikdoms in the East
praising communist dictators
who have helped him build his towers

step by step he‘s leading US
from the groups of international powers
to an isolation desert
at the margins of the world
slogans we have rarely heard
over decades  
      now re-nourished
twittered with presidential flourish
make America small again

warning voices call in vain

no wonder the statue of liberty
is hiding her face in misery (*)
(*) This at the moment still is 'fake news' - but I would not be surprised if she did...!
Evelyn Genao May 2018
"It's okay."

I can still feel it.
The way your lips touched mine.
Without meaning.
Without feelings.
I missed them.
Your kisses.
Your attention.

My heart.

I saw it.
The way your eyes drifted to others.
Never straying to mine.
Never filled with the same spark.
Always dull.
Lifeless.
Loveless.

It hurts.

You would say it.
Those three words.
Not to me.
Never to me.
To the others.
They always got your love.
I got your hate.
Your anger.
Always.

You don’t have to love me.”

You gave me orders.
Never to be near you.
Never to hold hands.
Not in public.
We did not know each other.
They would get the wrong idea.
“We are cousins,” You would say.
You were embarrassed.
To be seen.
With me.

I can’t.

I was your puppet.
You pulled the strings.
And I obeyed your commands.
You never loved.
Not me.
Never me.
I was your toy.
Something you could throw away.

Take it.

It’s all a game.
Of feelings.
Of pain.
Of love.
Of hate.
You are the king.
I’m your ****.
Just a piece on your board.

I’m done.

I loved you.
More than anything.
I let you use me.
Hurt me.
If I got to be with you.
Nothing else mattered.
You didn’t feel the same.

No one ever does.”
I saw a prompt and this poem came to mind. I hope you love it and be sure to comment what you think. Check out my other works!!
Daisy Rae  Mar 2018
fake flowers
Daisy Rae Mar 2018
Exotic petals of yellow,
Hot pink and leaves of green
A sunrise of baby blues
And clouds made of cream.


A lei of Hibiscus
Whiskey and Tequila too
A paradise of softheartedness
Where the sun will never set on you.

Lilac skies in the west
Clouds made with a dash of tangerine  
A Pink Flamingo guarding her nest
A sight straight out of daydreams.

The spirits sway  
In the shadows of the palm trees
So come on down and meet us by the Cay
And let all your fears fall away.


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L Dec 2017
There comes a time when we start to feel something for someone we know we should not.
You look at them, and all you want is to wrap them up in your arms.

There's a price to pay when it comes to falling in love with your best friend.

Thinking to yourself, there are two options:
One. Pursue this feeling. Act upon it.
Two. Let it consume you. See them happy with someone else.

No matter what, you lose.

One. Sure, you'll be happy for a bit if things go well.
But when things start to go down, you'll wish to have never acted upon this.

Two. Your thoughts will overcome your body, like an unknown force taking over you.
You'll wish you would have told them how you felt.

For me, I chose one.

I told her that one night, and to my surprise we were one.

A month goes by.

There I sit, in the dark, thinking of what could be.
Realizing I didn't want to pursue this anymore.
The thought of losing her as a friend if something were to go wrong.
I couldn't let us do this.
I called it off.

A week later she is with another.
Telling me how in love she is.

Be careful when choosing.
For one outcome can be nice for a while, but turn to dust.
Another could leave you consumed in your own thoughts
every
    single
         night.
My mistake. She thought her **** was love. And that's okay. I just wish I knew.
Little Azaleah Mar 2016
Though she may be smiling,
do not be misled.
Alone she could be crying,
with words left unsaid.

(e.i)
Sarah Isma May 2018
I’ve now grown and I turned out alright
But now I realize that this flow isn’t a smooth flight
The scary things that I see is the reason I held to my seat so tight
Here are the few things
That made me hate this horrible ride
        the fact you realize that your parents are never right.
To see that they are flawed beings, with broken wings and ****** mistakes.
To realize the truths and the smiles they fake,
Growing up to see only the image portrayed- was only for your sake.
They hide the tears and shower us with laughter
They told us stories and happily ever after,
But just as soon
Only that I realize they were telling their own dreams,
        That had slipped right out their fingers
So ask me what’s the saddest part growing up?
To see the hollow sadness from the two people,
who once i thought was happiest.
i never really knew how much things could effect parents, the slightest action i could now see their subtle response- i understand now. Its just the fire in them burning out, only dim enough for them to keep me going- so i don't burn out too.
Erin Johnson  Nov 2018
Fake Love
Erin Johnson Nov 2018
She's a strong
Cup of black coffee
In a world
That's drunk
On cheap wine
And fake love
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