It's funny...you actually believe I'm happy,
You actually think the smile on my face is real.
It's not,
Look into my eyes, you see that sparkle?
You think that's from being happy? It's not
It's the tears building up, telling you I'm about to break.
Do you care?
No, nobody does.
When you actually stop and think for a second;
When you start to realize that not everything is perfect,
Let me know, maybe then I won't have to keep hiding my pain
But until then, just keep thinking I'm the happy girl I pretend to be
It's not me
Forum rules
A place for new members to post their poetry so we may get to know them and their poetry better. NO erotica.
Autoprune: 12-months
A place for new members to post their poetry so we may get to know them and their poetry better. NO erotica.
Autoprune: 12-months
- MJPease
- Quixotic Rambler
- Posts: 1395
- Joined: Fri Mar 01, 2002 12:01 am
- Location: Clarence Center, NY
Re: It's not me
Hello hope1994, Just keep on writing and one day you will be. Take Care
Take me back, so far back, adjust this fate. Afeared lately of pen, in abscence of light. The fear I might stumble upon a plagiarized soul. Wipe this dark slate clean, regain my thought. Add the words that rekindle my depth of soul.
From: Summers Discontent 7-24-02
Sincerely
Michael J Pease
From: Summers Discontent 7-24-02
Sincerely
Michael J Pease
- jeannerené
- Winter's Rose
- Posts: 686
- Joined: Thu Jul 04, 2002 12:01 am
- Location: CA
Re: It's not me
Hope1994,
There is such a longing to be heard, to be noticed voiced in your poem and I can feel the loneliness ... pain.
Keep writing as Michael said ...
Many good wishes to you,
jeanne
There is such a longing to be heard, to be noticed voiced in your poem and I can feel the loneliness ... pain.
Keep writing as Michael said ...
Many good wishes to you,
jeanne
... and his words purge up and outward,
expelled and onward through desert dust swallowed,
sands he says that gorge on simple sensibilities.
And, now he spits fragments, grit, extended vowels and elongated syllables
over cracked lips. Their sounds fall
piling round his boots… ~ jeannerené
~breathe~
flickr -jeannerene photostream
expelled and onward through desert dust swallowed,
sands he says that gorge on simple sensibilities.
And, now he spits fragments, grit, extended vowels and elongated syllables
over cracked lips. Their sounds fall
piling round his boots… ~ jeannerené
~breathe~
flickr -jeannerene photostream
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