'Just stop asking why', silence fills the room
I try so hard, to write out memories that become
The deficit of the endless deceit on either side.
We squeeze the juicy details on an apparent canvas of 'raw' emotions.
I'm a fool, penning away these hellish heart breaks.
Wasted, wanton, and weary I come, expecting help.
Instead I'm handed a mask and asked to join.
Incapable of seeing through this vindictive veil,
But forced again like cattle to lift hands and bow heads.
A manufactured worship, with prayers that hit the ceiling
And return as empty echos.
What and where is true restoration?
The only gods here I see here are the ones they exalt,
The music, the eloquence, and themselves.
Yet my own chant of 'hypocrites' hits a mirror somewhere,
And I see I am the same.
A porcelain smile and a few tears for penance.
Here I stand, as sick of myself as I am of you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great piece....very well written....keep it up man.