What was personified and what was genuine
Are so terribly mixed, I’m unsure.
That which bewilders is beset
With doubt between what’s real and pure.
Make-believe and masquerade
My many truths beffudled in mystique.
A sample of a splinted soul
Shrouded in saturations oblique.
Deciet drawn with smiles
To distract from fractured truths.
My naked self encased away
In case of breakage or missuse.
Secrets so nobody knows
The depths of misery I contain,
The shame and weakness
I consume and in my fear sustain.
I wish that I had been myself
But being myself, what a mess was made.
A look beneath my stained visage
Betrays the oceans I’ve kept restrained.
It’s coming soon, I must confess,
My will and levies are going to break.
So when I finally be myself
My tears might drown away my aches.