Everyone see the mask
Never the person
Everyone sees the victim
Never the monster
We don't know who we were
Nor who we are
Who will we be?
Nobody knows us
Everyone prefer the image
Created instead of the original
(what is real?)
They see lovers
When they are friends
They see lies. So many lies
Even the ones that
Were never said, not out loud.
They prefer distancy to fighting
For something that maybe had worth
What is the truth to them?
Nothing.
Our real is a nothing,
In their world.
Is there someone who know us?
Are we just a ilusion?
Masks, such pretty masks.
Nada.
YOU ARE READING
Memories
PoetryFor when thoughts invade or your mind it's 5 am and still sleep won't come For when you want to shout And scream out loud For they to leave you at peace. Sometimes writting everything straight Just isn't enough. Sometimes it has to rhyme, To follow...
