I'm a crook

A liar

An imposter

I am all these things


 "An open book"

A deceiver

Supposedly a "believer"

I'm as bad as a thief


Nobody know I am all these things 

because nobody knows the real me

I am caught up in all these fantasies

Where I can simply be free


I can't let them see

Because judgement is reality

Glued back together peice by peice

Yet still broken as can be

This poem is about: 


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