my life is a charade,
a play in which i
play every character.
twirling and twisting,
the mask of fake smiles
for the masquerade ball.
under the stage lights,
arms raised to the stars
as i wait to bow.
as i wait for my arms to fall,
for the applause to erupt
and the final curtain to close.
too many times i've tried to rush it,
pulling on the string
halfway through the show.
each time the mask returns,
i waltz back onto the stage
and attempt to stop shattering.
i wait, wait, wait, wait,
until the mask begins
to crack.
it's time for the show to close,
time for the applause,
but the curtain won't fall.
- a.
1 / 2021
YOU ARE READING
shoebox | a poetry collection
Poetry" 𝑖'𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒙 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒃𝒆𝒅. . . " - a collection of poems written by yours truly - " . . . 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝒅𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 . "
