Another hollow, empty day
Of masquerade and artifice.
Pretending: that is all she does,
And she's not sure who started this
Whole life, whole way, all this pretense,
Not knowing anymore what's real:
But somehow, something's got to change
So she, one day, once more
Can feel
Like this:
Like Loading...
Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
View all posts by Beleaguered Servant
