The Lie

Here I stand
a stranger between friends, family and colleagues
wearing my made-up self
like a second skin.
Every one of you claiming to “know” me.
What a joke “ know me”
when you only see what I allow you to see.

Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I am an actor playing a self-made role to perfection.
No one knows ME inside.
Or really care to know.
Oh! You pretend to care.
But prefer not to know more
about my ugly scars.
My repulsive face I hide behind my mask,
my ugly bare alien soul.
My all-consuming rage and self loathing.
My thoughts and hope and plans  of self-destruction.
Knowing that I have weighed myself and found myself wanting.
A plastered calm, efficiency and friendliness for everyone outside to see,
yet recognizing the conceit in everyone around me.
The lies and the pretense.
Pretending to know me,
to care about me,
to love me…
A cynical joke from a very sick mind!
We are all broken dolls ,
play acting, thinking we have convinced the world and ourselves
that we are whole.
But stripped down from our defenses and masks and lies
We are nothing but shells.
Empty, unlovable, tainted and loathsome…