Let us pretend
That we were nothing
But some casual affair
2 AM ***** dystopia
Just another night
To forget

Let us pretend
That years of silence
Can somehow bend
White lies into
Truth

Let us pretend
For burying regrets
Seems all there's
Left to do

I look into the mirror
That’s
Foggy and blurred,

And wrap myself around
The shape
I see in return.

Put a face to name,
And name to face,

Turn my back and suddenly,
That’s

Not

The

Case?

Watching from afar
As another cries,

Helpless to do anything but
Keep it inside

And escape the mess
that’s only mine,
Navigate the maze
Inside their mind.

Holding out a hand I could never take,
slamming on a door that I couldn’t

Break,

But now that you’re
holding out
the key to

me,

One can finally
See—


Past the

mirror

Image.

You never said more than ten words to me                                                               ­                                                      and  that's just a **** tragedy                                                     ­                   You had a hard time showing your love                                                      made  me feel not good enough                                                           ­   You  never said I am proud of you                                                          so  I  stopped trying to prove  it to  you                                                          ­  You  ignored me most of my life                                                             ­      and that cut me like a knife                                                            ­       Old woman take a look at me                                                               ­   I'm  more than you'll ever be                                                               ­          Now I look at you with pity                                                             ­        I  didn't need you to validate me

I can’t keep up with my muse’s ****
My write hand is dragging, like a catcher’s mitt
In such a hurry, trying to catch everything
You never know, my muse may make me sing

Words abound, no truth in any I’ve found
Still the words, they circle back around
Did they find my roots, am I buried that deep
The cold, dark ground, holds my secrets to keep

Wait just a minute muse, you’re going too fast
You have to slow down to make the pages last
Capture my heart, blurred between the lines
Uncover my soul, it’s inside these rhymes

Commoners' indignant?
Youth disinherited?
Ha. Nay.

Intellectuals disrespected.
Visionaries neglected.
Aye.

Yous who don't learn,
Refusin' to see eye-to-eye.
You slight genius, Truth.
Ay;

Afraid to even say hi -
Much less engage in honest, forthright conversation.
Rely on your superstitious,
Your hope is to pray
For ignorance like arrogance be your prey.

Lambs what be foul predators
Fat on the blood of their own ewes.
Singin',

"We know not what we do!
We know not what we do!"

Yet, you do so willfully.

Soon-to-be-nothings;
Absence, as nothingness, will be your eternity.

For the unworthy are rejected, universally.

Life is a placebo.
Endless obstacles,
difficulties to overcome.
Eyes set on goals
we'd thought we'd achieve
even if it drained us
of all but an inkling
of hope.
Lies on parchment
the truth of life,
and I am but a quotation,
repeating words of false hope
so others can believe
we don't all die
wishing to amend
even one
mistake.

Gather around me, point and laugh,
Watch me dance with a broken half.
How easy pain can be disguised—
Just hide your face, then mask the mask.

Come and try to comprehend
How a broken leg pretends
To find footing amidst torment,
Beneath the stares of a thousand eyes

Everyone has a broken half—
Half hearts, half brains, half short-stretched hands.
Try as you may to refuse and defend
Your half pride and half lies and their
Sickening stench.

Never thought a man could confess,
Or even have the courage to explain himself,
How bad and awful can be dismay,
Or even realize his closing end.

Instead, we stumble around and shout—
To forget it all, we shout loud and proud.
And if we still hear whispers of reason,
Our throats are ready to smother it out.

I used to hold truth
like a weapon —
sharp, clean, final.

But now it moves.

Not like a lie,
not like denial —
but like a tide
that’s been waiting for me
to grow strong enough
to swim deeper.

What I swore was solid,
now trembles in my hands.
Not because it was false —
but because I’ve changed.

And now I fear
not the truth itself,
but the way
it keeps becoming.