The Lies We Tell of the Fake Perfect
Location
There is a certain thing I seem to be
A manner sweet, and care put in my dress-
But deeper look would show I'm nearly free
Of qualities that I seem to possess.
Success was in my plan, they all would say
Whilst sunny shadows shone from both my eyes,
They'd confidence I'd meat each bright new day
If I did fall, I'd brush off and arise.
I don't deserve, though, all this grand remark,
In secret, eyes cast down in hurt despair
For I have wandered frightened in the dark-
I'm broken 'yond believe- beyond repair.
If cast I off persona that I've been,
What things, my dearest one, would you see then?