the mirror was an illusion,

the silence was the truth.

so many illusions fill the air,

hang down on our shoulders,

shine in our eyes.

too much you do not see.


i want to tell you the truth:

all of this is b u l l s h i t…

not the truth,

but yes sometimes it is.


i’m 17 and the truth of the world is crushing

i’m a contradiction to people,

i am one person on the outside, the person people expect me to be

i am one person on the inside, the person i want to be.

i see that person,

the one i want to be,

i see him staring back at me at times

when i’m telling my truth,

when i watch the girl i loved walk away,

when i forget about the way the world has seemed to curse me.


the truth is

he is sure the world will not accept him.

the fear he feels of being





it drowns him.

the pain he feels is inevitable when he tells her the truth

and she

               walks          away…


i hide him inside because i am ashamed

he’s too scared,

                        too short

                                      too “unmanly”

it drowns him.


if i tell the truth,

if i let him come out,

it will      change         e v e r y t h i n g—


they way they all look at me,

the questioning,

the way i will have to explain myself.


he’s not strong enough.

                        i’m not strong enough.


is it really worth it,

to show them the truth?

he hurts staying inside,

it hurts me,

but he is sure the world is not ready to see the



i pull the charade over my face

maybe you will see Me

or maybe you can only see the illusion. 


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