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Is this the truth
or just another lie?
You've told me the how
now tell me the why.
I hope it's the truth
but we know
it's another disguise.
I wish I was indifferent,
but i know we are both just trying not to cry.
Ayesha Jun 2020
It wasn't me I swear, it wasn't me It was the monster I swear, it was him It was he who committed the ****** It was he who burned down the town It was he who lit up the first spark It was he who fired the furious shot I swear it was him and I know you say you saw me but I swear it wasn't me. It was he who came in in the dense of  night It was he who stuffed himself inside me It was he who saw through my cracked eyes It was he who walked in my broken disguise I swear it was him. I know I sound unbelievably strange but believe me I know not who he is.
Or maybe it was me.
Moe Jun 2020
Distant at heart
A slow developing
Thought makes it out
We are not clean from guilt
Only disguises
Even words don’t make
The odd hours pass
This you and I
Sharon Talbot May 2020
A virus lives quietly
Until one day it appears
As suddenly as a madman
Raging in the desert
In quest of methamphetamine.
Or an outlaw on *****,
Shooting up streets
And striking people down.
It has no origin we can see,
No place that it calls home,
But ravages civilizations
And adopts their clothing,
Wears their armour
And steals their ships,
Like the Sea Peoples
Of ancient times.
Feared even by god-like Pharaohs,
The kings of Knossos and
The Mycenaean warlords.
It attacks the very essence
Of its victims, becoming like them.
Walking through their streets,
Dancing as they do and
Welcomed into their houses—
Hiding in plain sight.
It drifts down as they sleep,
And bonds with their cells at night.
I was writing a poem about the mysterious Sea Peoples of the Bronze Age, who ravaged empires and people all over the Mediterranean. As I wrote, I noticed parallels between the current pandemic and previous ones; the virus must hijack others' cells in order to reproduce, as if wearing them like a costume!
Simon May 2020
The universe (essentially) isn’t what it seems. WOW! SHOCKER…! But this very (obviousness) isn’t what you exactly think, either. As it’s much MORE complex then anyone can ever transpire on a regular basis. It’s exactly what the title of this passage gives away… That there’s a reason the universe is an obvious smoke-screen. Now, is it the darkness that is a void itself…? Is it the general theme that everything in this ever-expanding void, is again, (essentially) too desolate beyond recognition? B-but why is it (essentially) too desolate beyond recognition? Well sense of selves, a-and all individualities that mask themselves with impressions they don’t even realize they are (doing just that themselves). Except with pure obliviousness. Something that’s “meant” to turn that very (someone) into a king, respectfully. OOOOOKKKK…! One would say with just a hint of slight confusion. A king of what, exactly…? They ask once more as there (obviously) MORE intrigued then the “slight confusion” fuels the curiosity forward. Good question. The narrator simply responds. Well you see… There’s this thing apart from all the formalities and what not. There’s (essentially) what’s called an oblivious king. A king who’s too oblivious for there own good. And it could (very well be a someone o-or something) for variety itself has no flaw for specifics of that aptitude. Because if it did, then everything “couldn’t and wouldn’t” spiral out of control for something to not (substantially and correctly) act this way, when it’s (supposed) to otherwise be of the complete opposing opposite. Which doesn’t seem to stand good with (what’s the smoke-screen for)? Because if the universe is “meant” to seemingly be a smoke-screen for (something) entirely different. Then the universe is then (essentially) just a mask hiding away the truer appearance o-or “identity” of what the true variety, really is. Which in case in point, is what will generally make you into a king. A king for no (instance of power) can cause obliviousness without surrounding themselves with the light that is delusional (for knowing too much). Then the one who spoke out first then scratches their head. Well…ok, that’s ahhh…well…. They then catch themselves going off cue and re-straighten out their posture to then correctly (clear their throat) to respeak (there again), own opinion. K…K…K…. S-so then what does any of this mean…? Then as if pointing a finger out directly at the one narrating this passage, there finger radiated with a boiling direct seriousness. Not to mention whatever light that is delusional for… They then stop in a flustered pause re-scratching their head with MORE contemptment then (slight confusion) could ever be sounded correctly anymore. Re-scratching until there was possibly no scalp left. For the gross dandruff that started to flake all over the place made them MORE oblivious to what even an (oblivious king) is truly all about. They finally gathered there voice back into commission, and got a hold on there breathing as they inhaled, then immediately exhaled. Feeling now calm and collected. … (For knowing too much…) They said as they expressed at the EXACT same time as exhaling. Followed by an obvious sign of relief they were glad to feel. Because there’s another instance for power to reckon something out of one’s tip-top shape. And just like an oblivious king, there’s the (high of confusion). A type of confusion that goes WAY BEYOND what one (couldn’t begin) to understand. For the smoke-screen grows ever larger. Which then prematurely (beyond one’s own reckoning for absolute truth…) The universe grows more better and broader in its own concealment. Hiding the face beyond the truer variety that (would otherwise) make you into a bonafide king! For if you know the identity of the universe itself, before the (founding) even took place… Then (essentially) if someone were to find out, (and they were still there own oblivious king) for the wrong ideas on how to handle such a truth. Then were all *******, pretty much! Especially what’s on the other side of that universal mask!
The universe “had” become known to not know itself for what truly isn’t made up of one’s very (self-recognition) to begin with. As with time and patience, is when one will afford their own appearance at then concealing a MORE affordable truth.
Sara Apr 2020
Love is patient, love is kind
love is pain, just in disguise.
Laokos Apr 2020
she's in my mind
only, ever
in my mind.  i am
a beast drinking blood
in cold shadows.  she's on the stairs towards the gods with gold-flake mirrors on fire.
i can't be soothed by their plasma flesh pixels anymore.
i can't be soothed by their carbon copies.
i will soon be below their real for good.
in need no more of the soft same semblance displayed on the shelves.
i swim in deep pools collecting aloneness on high. the
romantic disaster laughter is muted. these days i can't
help but feel, every now and then,
that death
is
a great kindness
in disguise,          but

not in the
way you
think.
Ila Apr 2020
Angels are those 100 foot tall celestial beings with the thousand eyes and seven pairs of wings. They burn with celestial flame and run ichor through their bones. Demons on the other hand, even with the bad reputation, are far less frightening. They’re fallen angels, shouldn’t they still have all those attributes? Well, no. I don’t think so. Demons have adapted look more like humans. Sure if you stare too hard, too long, you’ll notice something for a spilt second, but most people dismiss that as a trick of the eye. Demons blend into the crowds, in the shadows, in the darkness in our hearts. They were made into less celestial beings, and they have every right to be angry. Thrown out of heaven like food for the dogs. They are retaliating. They’re disrupting God’s so called perfect creation. They are bringing chaos into this world. Humans don’t know this and think of it as a regular encounter, a passerby on the street, the barista at your local coffee shop, the fruit vendor tending to their goods. Demons are making it a normal enounter, so normal that we get comfortable and can’t tell the difference. It’s their job to do this. Soon enough we can’t tell the difference.

Demons look like humans, because really, aren’t we all just demons in disguise?
Shreya Mar 2020
Days turn into night,
Nights turn into days,
A lot was on going on,
But there was nothing much to say.

At least I knew I was alive,
For sometimes I doubt my existence,
From going unheard to not caring one bit,
Were people who I envied and listened to the most.

Every day as these memories pass,
I think about who I am,
Hiding myself in disguise,
It seems like I’m trapped in a can.

But is it that hard to have someone by your side?
When I’m in pain,
They just don’t seem to notice it,
And I only want someone to call my name.

These memories I hold are not quite pleasant to hear about,
But I hope someday I would not have to be a ‘Personality in Disguise’ anymore.

For those whom I love,
I wish you could understand me,
And accept me for being myself,
‘Cause someone else can’t be me.

For all these memories that I hold,
I wish I could be myself again,
I hope not to be,
A ‘Personality in Disguise’ tied to a chain.
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