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M Cannon Aug 28
The hardest part of being happy
Is keeping up the charade.

Behind each smile is a sore lip
Bruised with anxious bites
Each time someone looks away.

Behind each laugh is a broken sob
Muffled into silence,
Hidden and saved for a rainy day.

Behind each kind word is a crack
In an already shattered heart,
Taped together with the words
“I’m fine”.

Behind each “I love you” is a desperate cry,
Screaming “Please don’t leave me”
Until their voice is gone.

The hardest thing about being happy
Is you can only play this game
For so long.
Amanda Jun 2019
If you peer into my heart
Completely you'd understand
How I care about your soul
I truly miss your hand

I you borrow my irrational brain
The one obsessing over you
You would discover your presence is my escape
The past haunts all I do

There is burning through my veins
Too much you and your essence
Wish you owned the same skeleton
You would feel I'm not happy in your absence

Nothing what it appears to you
I have made sure of that
Going through familiar motions
Stability only an act

I cannot be as strong as I want to
Not allowed to show real dismay
I force a smile to portray a happy face
Can't live this charade one more day
Wooo I am tired af. Started a new job and I forgot how hard it is being on my feet. Anyways I might not post as much because so much love to you all!
Max Jan 2019
Before I went to bed I drank a glas of lemonade
To make my bad dreams go away
Sadly it didn't seem to work as my dreams turned into a very unpleasant charade.
Dreaming my *** off
Em MacKenzie Oct 2018
The sun will never again shine bright,
I’ll live my life without that light.
Now I won’t speak another word,
It’s not like they were ever heard.
There’s nothing worth saving left,
You’ve sentenced us both to death.

We’ll continue acting in our show
I’ll enter right and left you’ll go,
the production wasn’t well rehearsed;
it was just another script that was cursed.
There will be no standing ovation,
you’ve opted us both for cremation.

Only silent applause and locked jaws,
on opening night and you take centre light.
There was a solid script you carelessly ripped,
there’s no going back, this is the final act.

I left the only roses on the stage,
it called for it on a lost page.
A whole production with no lines,
‘cause words are just like land mines.
You play your part and play it well,
you’ve sentenced us both to hell.

Only silent applause and locked jaws,
on opening night, the subtext is trite.
There was a solid plot that all the critics bought.
There’s no going back, this is the final act.
The method could not crack, this is the final act.
Closed curtain and fade to black, this is the final act.
Amanda Jul 2018
Want you to be happy so I hide that I'm not
Think something is wrong with me
It is unfair to close off my dark side from you
Hands have done deeds I don't want you to see

I know I cannot live this charade forever
Emotions inside begging to be let outdoors
It is tough to wear a smile when it isn't how I feel
I do it so you do not lose yours
Its tough when someone elses happiness is directly related to yours
Anthony Mayfield Jun 2018
I am locked in a Prison of Innocence.
The warden is kind,
The guards are stern.
The cell of stale straw candy.
My own home to yearn.

Stuck in the Lost Town of Resonance,
My feet are scarred and bare.
The shackles are soft.
But they burn if I stare.
I may never see the privileged loft.

How I got here is a story too long.
My crimes and my sins
Born from lonely heart song.
You know it.
We all sing it in the dark.

I am locked in the Prison of Innocence.
it shouldn't have gone this far.
Though imprisoned, I know they love me.
They'll tearfully let me leave.
This prison is all of ours.
...until proven...
another multiple account holder
has made Cello Poetry his
abode
where he's posting under many
a different authoring
code

he was initially known as
Brando
Build
then he added a few more
to his prospering
guild

the syndication now hosts
Slick Shaz, Fruity Rot and
Tuppence
which is quite an extensive
confluence

what title will he choose
next
his whole charade has got
right out of
context
Nylee Aug 2016
Silence speaks to me,
Speaks more than words.
It hides no lies,
Just hard to understand.
It can give peace,
Or can depict pain.
It can give solace,
Or emotion drain.
It has many shades,
Lot many faces,
Devoid of charade,
Gives enough space.
A lot can be told by silence,
And this Silence can be heard,
With an eye glance,
Things that can not be told by words.
Naomi Hurley Jul 2017
I live
In a cardboard cutout house
Our plates and silverware
Are plastic
The food adorning them
Plastic as well
Glossy and vibrant
But poisonous if consumed

No water will pour
From the sink or tub
If you try to turn
The handle

The plants are fake
The dog is fake
The microwave won't turn on
The floor looks wooden
                           (which may be the case)
For there is no carpet
                           in sight
No decor to behold

I try to pull back
The sheets on the bed
Only to find
That they're entwined--
Attached to the mattress
That feels more like
Pottery
I lean down to see
                           "Made in China"
Etched on the side
Of the frame

My footsteps echo
Down the hall
On the wooden floor
Of the cardboard cutout house
Until I finally see
Something living
Something real

Until I get close.

Her skin is matte
Her eyes are dull
Her teeth are chalk white
Her hair (maybe made from silk?)
                           sits perfectly in place
She is positioned with a smile--
                           Her vinyl arm bent at the elbow
                           Masquerading a friendly wave

She is merely a sculpture
                           A doll of a human being
Filled with wax instead of tissue
Factory made, not a product of Love(TM)

I escape
Away from the figurine Mother
The clay bed
Hard floors
Prop kitchenware and
Plastic food

Because a cardboard cutout house
                           is not a home.
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