She's so euphoric,
And always smiling.
I've never seen her cry,
Or show a sign of pain.
She must have her life together,
All the pieces in their places,
Everything aligned eloquently.
No doubt she's doing great,
Right?
Wrong.
Her euphoria is a mirage,
A mask, a facade, a kalopsia.
The pain is blurred and smeared,
Until it looks nothing like reality.
Instead it is a smile,
So fake it leaves her numb,
To the point she forgot what it's like,
To be really truly happy.
YOU ARE READING
Behind The Skull
PuisiThis is a poetry book with all the poetry I've ever written in it. I don't have a specific writing style. In fact, I don't even know what kind of poetry mine would be considered. Truth is, I just write what's on my mind and sometimes it rhymes. Hop...
