Mask broken and slipping;
the charade is fading and going.
Their eyes are looking so hard,
but not really seeing.
An aching face from smiling
that stupid fake grin.
Behind the pulled cheeks,
is a stream of tears just flowing.
A slumped posture with lead arms,
that just hang as the march goes on.
Drawing closer and closer to the edge,
Waiting for the drummer to stop.
A synthetic happiness glows
whilst they all bask in ignorance.
Put on the performance everyday,
so you can have their peace.
It's what we do
It's what we do
Author notes
I don't really know what style of writing this comes under. It's supposed to be kinda disjointed here and there. So I hope you got that feeling.
What did you think?
Comments
-
Its better for those who can't lead to follow, so there's is an unlimited amount of truth here, which is brilliant.
-
wow
i love this poem and enjoyed reading it.. it made me stop and think! Good writing! -
disjointed yes!!
but nice and truthful and very perceptive, i like the truth in lines 15 & 16
Adding your comment:
