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#charade
Trapped inside Vanquished by the light Doomed to rot alone for eternity Neverending fears haunts my mind Dark enchantments keeps me alive I’m drowning in tears to cleanse the scars away Mending, but never healing This malice Tears me apart As life goes on I’m slowly sinking ever deeper into darkness Decaying on a throne of pain Frozen in time Deep down in the abyss They have come for me Faceless terrors Voices without words Venomous, chaining and enslaving -An endless battle of loss Maybe… I should end it all Yet I smile Like a gardener in its own garden My cage of thorns endures… The freakshow must go on.
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Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 9:13 AM UTC
The Masquerade
I hate the weight of each heavy smile Within my worries are starting to pile Sirens going and the alarm in my head Has me wishing to weep instead But the last thing I intend is to cause concern So I hold the flames in though I feel my chest burn Walls slowly creeping inch by inch Closing in from all sides but I refuse to flinch I hate to make a sound that might draw attention So my anxiety I do not dare mention Fighting for air but on the surface remain still Underneath skin fear is too powerful to **** All I want is for laughter to be more than a facade And to look into the mirror and not view a fraud Please just let my happiness for once be genuinely real My emotions a tiring charade that I will never truly feel
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Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 6:47 PM UTC
Charade
You steal away my smile Replacing with hurt My mind consumed with ease Making me think I'm dirt I'm tired of the pain Future dark Bleak Display doesn't seem like home Gets me not wanting to speak I try yes I attempt to move on Right the flaws inside Always reminded of the past I can't run or hide You are doing just great Dandy Look up with determined grit Here below the surface Admit defeat and quit
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Mar 30, 2024
Mar 30, 2024 at 10:06 AM UTC
Here Below The Surface
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.
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Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 3:51 PM UTC
Charade
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
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Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 4:19 PM UTC
Portray No Dismay
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.
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Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 6:09 PM UTC
Lemonade
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.
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Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
Act III
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
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Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
I Smile So You Won't Frown
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.
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Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:09 AM UTC
Prison of Innocence
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
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Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 10:13 PM UTC
Right Out of Context
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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Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 10:54 PM UTC
Home
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.
Continue reading...
59
We both read our scripts, but we're not on the same page. You and I are just actors who treat life as the stage. We rehearse our lines, but they're not what we mean, for once lets break character and call cut on this scene. We could steal the show if we rewrite the play and end the charade of this macabre matinee. We've reached the finale, there's no encore after all. This is our shot, our last curtain call.
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Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 10:38 PM UTC
Curtain Call
Though so well I hide, And my life's a masquerade Though, evеrytime I cried And told: "That's charade" Though many times I said: "Don't believe my tears My heart has never bled, I'm cold, I have not fears" Though acted as the happiest, see Wore wide deceitful smile When heard : "Go, live without me" I thought : WIll it be worthwhile? How easily can world colapse When heard:"Get out of sight!" You know, on the church steps The atheist cried. Though thought soul's eternal, When heard:"Forever goodbye" Stopped the song vernal, Eternal soul died.
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 7:52 AM UTC
Masquerade
**Yesterday, everything was for free, And you made everything glimmer and glow, Brought sunshine and flowers and bows, Without asking one thing of me at all. Today, you stand there waiting on my $, Watching me as though I am a criminal, One who invaded into your sacred world For themselves and with no rules to follow.** **Now everywhere one looks it's a "buy now" sign, Displeased that I won't give you your "moneys worth," Joy in the pleasure of the things that are free and fine, So you took everything free and made it much worse, But will impart the same old good times to those who Are willing to part with yet more pennies and dimes.**
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Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 3:49 PM UTC
Greed-Lures
Words tumbled out of an aluminum commode into a hungry mouth: naïveté. Libations atop a tin altar in a squalid temple rife with the stench of lascivious youth bemoaned battle cry transcendent in the sound of forever. Coming of Age a cleverly disguised charade kept in place by a smile that never breaks until dawn. White noise cryptic static proselytize vomiting mucus-draining corpses a parade of mindless disciples dancing to the beat of the heart in a distant star whose life perished in the forgotten past. Fabricated promises of maturation facetiae in the frozen teeth that only part for the stubborn tongue to lap up remaining consciousness on the floor like a begging dog. By himself he's weak but among many he's a god. A song bludgeons the eardrums "Tonight, tonight, to-night": Repetitio est mater studiorum. There's a voice in my head but you put a hand o'er it's mouth and pried mine open with the monkey's paw clutching a rose goblet containing spiritual cleansing. I've got a good idea but bad intentions and there's enough feculence wrapped in flesh and lies to make this place feel like Heaven. Stuffing my mouth with promises and fallacies that won't become clear until the bottle is empty. I'm washing away all the pain and the hurt right? I'm a man now, risen from the dirt right? I'll put my trust in the siren's call reaching through the fog to grasp her by the hair I fall into the murky bog beleaguered by strangulating tendrils wrapping around my frail bones I feel I'm being pulled under and I'm all alone I see their shimmering faces on the surface distorted in the reflection peering into the soul as I make my descent into the abyss. Waking up a man with a battered conscience Compromise wraps a warm blanket around me and places coffee between crusty and brittle fingers A gentle kiss on my forehead is the finishing touch leaving me alone with my baleful torment. Coming of Age is a charade.
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Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 7:17 PM UTC
Coming of Age
Words tumbled out of an aluminum commode into a hungry mouth: naïveté. Libations atop a tin altar in a squalid temple rife with the stench of lascivious youth bemoaned battle cry transcendent in the sound of forever. Coming of Age a cleverly disguised charade kept in place by a smile that never breaks until dawn. White noise cryptic static proselytize vomiting mucus-draining corpses a parade of mindless disciples dancing to the beat of the heart in a distant star whose life perished in the forgotten past. Fabricated promises of maturation facetiae in the frozen teeth that only part for the stubborn tongue to lap up remaining consciousness on the floor like a begging dog. By himself he's weak but among many he's a god. A song bludgeons the eardrums "Tonight, tonight, to-night": Repetitio est mater studiorum. There's a voice in my head but you put a hand o'er it's mouth and pried mine open with the monkey's paw clutching a rose goblet containing spiritual cleansing. I've got a good idea but bad intentions and there's enough feculence wrapped in flesh and lies to make this place feel like Heaven. Stuffing my mouth with promises and fallacies that won't become clear until the bottle is empty. I'm washing away all the pain and the hurt right? I'm a man now, risen from the dirt right? I'll put my trust in the siren's call reaching through the fog to grasp her by the hair I fall into the murky bog beleaguered by strangulating tendrils wrapping around my frail bones I feel I'm being pulled under and I'm all alone I see their shimmering faces on the surface distorted in the reflection peering into the soul as I make my descent into the abyss. Waking up a man with a battered conscience Compromise wraps a warm blanket around me and places coffee between crusty and brittle fingers A gentle kiss on my forehead is the finishing touch leaving me alone with my baleful torment. Coming of Age is a charade.
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71
Live in the dark, sharpen the steel, Play the charade, mould of grey clay, The bump in the night fills you with fright, Indulgence in the air? Make the "sinful" care. Vacuum the world, the big flag unfurled, Bump in the night,  neighbour takes flight, Pollution in the air? No one seems to care. Slow work to get by, free lunch for the fat guy, Masterful touch, the poor "lazy guy's" on the crutch, A place they can afford to stay if you think they're OK.
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Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
Freedumbs-Part III
The pretty devil, Dressed well, Full pouting lips, Cheap perfume smell, Gets you every time, All you need Is to play divine, Living in your own world, Boys worship every step, Although your striped stockings Seem as if they'll curl.
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Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
Secret Witches
* A prisoner of your own doing Selfishness is a way of avoiding Stay fair by merely existing Pain and craving Lock and stored in a well-guarded place Hunger made it hollow in this well hidden base Loving from a distance Shielded by masquerade Person in charade. *
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 2:56 AM UTC
State of being there
* Perhaps I am hard to like,      No one understand how I used my bike. Perhaps it was me,           who understood first                   of their perspective's meant to be. Perhaps that is why I stay away,                          always a step ahead in my foolish play. Perhaps you never notice my distance,                                 for I am alone in this charade of existence. *
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Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
Perhaps
I thought you could see through my disguise See through the charade of everyday I thought you were different From the others The ones who tell me to Get up Get moving Or get out of the way. While everyone else was herding past, You offered me your hand You were the first to tell me I was worth it. But that was your game, Your play. I wasn't special, not to you. You led me along And I enjoyed the ride, Not realizing that it made me Just like the Rest of them.
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
Disguise