I’m so tired of pretending.
I give constant criticisms to those that pretends,
But the one pretending the most, is me.
What most see me as,
A happy, gleeful, outgoing, crack-up…
I talk non-stop and laugh non-stop.
My happiness so genuine it tricks,
My speech so much it annoys,
My smile so wide my pupils unseen.
But all these just a fake disguise.
Inside me, deep down inside,
Lies sorrow, misery, despair,
A lethargic creature that has taken over,
The indifference facade I carry,
The authentic face of my own.
Will always have, the urge to cry, the urge to die,
I’m trying my best to hide it, but why?
Somehow my feelings state,
If unmasked, my spirits fade,
My own person, gone.
My life no longer present,
And death no longer absent.