Fair to trust your covers
Trust worthy profiles, texts
Who knew the hidden tragedy
Judging a cover, the whole series
Let no troubles face till doom
This route is a little tough
Rough enough to move gently
Though I don't surrender
Buckle up even harder
Till the broken heart fixes
Its own way to empowerment
I seek revenge but I'll fail
Until then I'll have stories to tell
Lessons to spread and alert
Didn’t I ever think to be authentic
collecting words, snapping photographs
exclaiming I am enamored with language and art
when honestly, I am merely a fraud
to what I love. My hands aren’t stained with ink,
my eyes aren’t trained to learn new techniques
paper is not my friend nor is a roll of film
tossing around in my bag of nonexistent records that
I actually love my hobbies.
I feel that I am not quite
an owner of my interests,
stealing passion from others and wishing
they were my own.
Have you seen the Master Magician around lately?
He who shows you a mirror with his right hand
While he picks your pocket with his left hand
He whose tongue tells you tales of a bogeyman
As his eyes induce you to part with your keys
He who wears the most beautiful of masks
To hide the psychopath that lurks within
Have you seen this Master Magician around lately?
He who will empty your pockets and ask for more
He who will become the master of your home
He who will convince you: “its all for your own good!”
Someone pretending to me
Robbed a convenience store
In Port-Au-Prince Haiti
With a Squirt Gun filled with urine,
And stole a can of spam,
Which was left there
By American Baptist Missionaries 35 years ago.
He ate the spam and became a zombie.
So, he was brought to a Voudou Ceremony
Where adherents prayed for his revival.
Someone else pretending to be me,
Stole all the condoms from a prostitute
In Recife , Brazil.
The john got angry because the prostitute refused
To have unsafe sex with him
He tracked the fake me down,
Took back the condoms,
And fed him to the sharks in the Atlantic Ocean.
Pretending to be me
Sneaked into a woman's bedroom
In a refugee camp in the Gaza Strip
While she was stark naked to steal her toothbrush.
She screamed and he hit his head
On the sink.
The Palestinian Refugees tried to revive him
By feeding him Foul Madammas,
But he just drooled.
The bruise of his ego
Was too deep to heal.
Never felt like a bigger fraud than I have right now
Fake it till you make it
Except it feels like cheating
To pretend I know so much
When I'm just really good at paraphrasing
If only I could memorise
Word for word to hide these lies
Quotes, formulas, preprepared answers
The skill they want is they skill they lack
But so do I and that's the issue
I understand it all I just couldn't tell you
What was said when, by whom.
He came to me with a cry of help
in his voice and his demeanor,
I felt a feeling too dreaded
So lost on human souls that it is weakness
I listened to his tale
a sister in need
I went with him, understanding coursing through my foolish mind
And we walked
And we waited
And we parted
Later, after I had recounted my story to others
I had learned
I had lost everything and more
The good deed I had committed was a lie,
I had helped him and been ravaged
My empathy and understanding
filled instead with pure rage
I had been nice
I would no longer
and if I saw him again
People in painted faces
Living in quiet repression
Sharing a silent depression.
Chained to their false personas by fear.
Playing pretend, always losing the game
And as just as soon as it slips away~
A dark fantasy in with all the characters are frauds.
The world is a stage.
The audience knows all the secrets,
The actors think they hide so well.
Most persons who are ageable
- aren't even adults
They are just grown children
Who have learnt fancier words
more serious sounding expressions
Those imposters. Caught ya.
Spider one. Grownchildren zero.