They always crafted a breathtaking smile
But inside
Their heart was torn
Their life was robbed
They kept their secrets perfectly
Beneath, their own secrets were...
Burning their souls
Sullying their heart
With hypocrisy
They smiled, laughed, cheered
Covered up their faces
Beneath, they were crying, suffering, lamenting
No one will know, either
They were wondering.
Where was sincerity?
They were asking.
Why me?
They were thinking
Wasn’t life just an act?
They were searching
Trying
Looking
To define happiness
The life of Perfect pretenders
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem