Truth is this thing we call life isn't really reality and, the dreams we dream of are not real either. So many lies the world has offered me and I took them all and ran with it, sat on the E train to who knows where as I delicately hold facades that were no where near authentic. It felt so genuine but, reality has crushed my fantasies and I keep shutting my eye but, all I see is black. Where am I?
- Truth
YOU ARE READING
Poems by the black gay boy.
PoetryJust thoughts and stuff in my head that I make into poetry nothing big.
