A smile and happiness,
When you look at me.
The perfect specimen,
As far as you can see.
Groomed to perfection,
That's what I've been taught.
A botox face – expressionless,
I don't see as fraught.
The dazzling of Colgate,
As you look at frames.
Where I'm laughing,
Whilst playing games.
I shudder by the idea,
If you should go upstairs.
And touch the door of the room,
Where no one ever dares.
Behind the door is black and white,
A somber piece of me.
Marilyn Monroe smiling down,
On what just could be.
Instead you'll find a crying boy,
Who's reality you'll see.
Just another outcast freak,
The boy behind the door is me.
YOU ARE READING
Emotional Amnesia
PoetrySometimes when I say "I'm okay", I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight and say, "I know you're not". I have felt like this many times in my life; as a kid, teenager and as an adult. I have seen many things in my life and felt even more...
