A Beautiful Facade


I like who I am when I pretend
to be someone else.
But pretending is exhausting
and weighs down the middle
of my chest.

I have days when I physically
cannot wear my mask and emit
fabricated rays of sunshine.

If only I could be who I am not,
and rid me of my true identity.

That would improve my mentality,
but leave a void in my heart.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem