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jake aller Jan 22
Fake Things


We live in a world
Of fake things


Fake Products
Fake News
Fake Calls
Fake Politics
Fake Sports
Fake Business
Fake Leaders
Fake People
Fake friends
Fake sincerity


Surrounded 24/7
By all the fake things
How can anything real exist?

Is it all nothing but fake things
Designed to deceive us all?
note:  will be published in Foliate Oak Review.  I just updated my blog, the world according to cosmos with a lot of fresh content.  Go to https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com to check it out
Amy Duckworth Dec 2018
I realize I am
evil,
crazy,
depressed,
broken,
scarred,
mean.
People give me the titles
"Evil ******"
"******."
"Insane *****"
"Violent Girl."
People have started to drift away from me...
They have done this because,
I am crazy
I am depressed
I am violent
I am not your average girl,
people tell me,
"You have to shave your legs."
"You have to act like a girl."
"You have to be weak."
I hate my life because of these people
but,
My friends that I have left say...
That I am,
Nice,
protective,
brave,
helpful,
smart,
and funny.
They call me,
"A Helper"
"A Good kid."
"A Sweet child."
Some of these people have only known me for a year,
some for more than a year.
They have done this because,
I am smart,
I am helpful,
I am kind.
They tell me,
"Keep trying."
"Stop cutting."
"Laugh more"
These people shape me and I realize my pros and cons,
I have had a realization.
This is true there are some more things but I don't want to tell them since they are very personal.
lost Oct 2018
gap
I don't know what to do
I am stuck in this gap
its hard to move forward
or backwards

im trying to choose between
him and him

him one
pros
nice, funny, calls me cute, noticed me
cons
distant, innocent, awkward
him two
pros
cute, nice, funny, and some notices me
cons
seems ***** all the time, clingy, its always wyd

they both notice me and i don't know why,
i'm not cute
i'm not funny
i don't attract any similes
i attract stares
Brent Kincaid May 2018
He’s the kind that likes to swindle
He’s always got some deal cooking,
(His bait and switch game doesn’t dwindle,)
When he doesn’t think we’re looking

You went to school with a **** like this,
He always claimed others were cheats.
He showed up early only if and when
They were serving food and sweets.
But never showed up for the work
Or did playground games honestly.
He claimed twice the victories he had
And lied to everyone constantly.

All the deals he makes are scams
He pulls the rug out from under.
(Were his steaks really just spam?)
And leaves giggling at his plunder.

When he got older, he took his dad’s gold
And parlayed it into a lifetime game
Of promises not kept, and half-truths
And, as usual, never once took the blame
He preferred never to pay his bills
And then bragged about how gullible
The creditors were, and how they all
Should really have charged him double.

Hey, **, he thinks we don’t know
Just what kind of game he’s playing.
Just listen to his promises online
It’s the opposite of what he’s saying.

But that’s how snake oil salesmen are;
They cook up a batch of ***** and herbs
And sell it as a cure-all and hurt folks
Then laugh and claim it’s what they deserve.
And, when his books turn out to be cooked
He lies about it way before you start.
When asked how he could be so crooked
He says, “That’s because I’m so smart!”

He’s the kind that likes to swindle
He’s always got some deal cooking.
(His bait and switch game doesn’t dwindle)
When he doesn’t think we’re looking
Rileigh Shanks Mar 2018
of sun and heat and romantic glory,
of coal black eyes and a remarkable story,
came a man, dark and handsome, though not quite so tall
with the cunning ability to make every girl fall
under a curious spell of disoriented love
by making each believe they were set above
all the rest, by showering them with praises
of their incomparable beauty, and using masterful phrases
he could capture the heart of an innocent girl,
promising her nothing short of the world.
but in an instant, in a moment, it would all be gone,
because his love was as fleeting as dawn.
he fought with a love that seemed solid and true,
his earnest eyes promising his heart to you.
his silver tongue and alluring voice
made it easy for his captives to make their choice
to surrender their hearts and allow him to hold
their futures and affections because they were told,
with words spoken in the language of love,
that they were meant to be, they fit like a glove:
“Te amo, te amo con todo mi corazón.
Tu eres mi amor, y yo sé que tengo razón
Cuándo yo dijo que significas todo para mí,”
and with beautiful language he would make you see
that he was right, and you needn’t fear
the heartbreak that was drawing near.
for when another beauty happened by,
she wouldn’t fail to catch his eye,
and he would always rush again to start,
taking with him your broken heart.
Alicia Allen Nov 2017
You
You!
You lied to my ears and my heart listened.
Listened and believed my foolish heart. For it cared not for the reasoning of my head.
And you,
you lied to my meddlesome heart and stole it, right out from between my ribs and my eyes never saw it coming.
You!
You lied to my heart, stole it and then broke it.
Broke it into pieces, and that I felt and that I saw.
Give me back my lied to, stolen, broken heart.
You!
You give me back my ******* heart!.
Madhu Jakkula Jun 2017
You approached me with a smile by holding a knife behind your back.
You made sure your words felt like home, only to burn it down slowly and calmly.
You made me believe you are different from others, only to realise later that you are con master in disguise.
Danielle L Cook Feb 2017
cross my heart and hope to die
without a trace and no goodbye
I'll leave you gaping with a hole in your chest
I stole the one thing you gave freely and yet
woefully in denial you scrape up whats left
which wont be much as I took all you had
you search and search but
you're always two steps back
you stop and remember how I use to laugh
how I use to kiss you and stare into your eyes
if only, you say, you had known they were lies
cross your heart and hope to die
you vow to find me or perish trying
The Con Artist of the Heart's Pov
(Inspired by the new TV Show Impostors)
Branden Youngs Dec 2016
I am not a novelist writer, I could never fill chapters of our affairs.
The only way I know how to love is, intimately and destructively unaware.
This tongue was created to turn saints into sinners.
Nothing excites me like bringing out the demons within her.
Just like the seasons love to trick her every year,
when she finally begins to feel comfortable,
I disappear.
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