You are not whom you seem to be.
You are not even the people you claim to be.
Your personas, your façades represent you daily.
The only time that you are yourselves is when you are, mainly,
deep in sleep or in mourning.
Come morning,
Come pretence, the damned torments!
You dress yourselves in expensive garments.
You wear learned confidence
as persistence.
Smiles are fake continually;
You wear pretence dogmatically.
You are exhausting.
And your act is equally exhausting.
You march onto the stage;
You refuse to turn over to the next page.
Your bodies are forever on set;
You are in the character they met.
You live the life you make;
You enjoy being fake.
Beautiful poem. Very true said, we pretend to be whom we are not, while reality is something else. We live the life we make; We enjoying being fake. Very true said, we enjoying being fake. I wrote a similar poem... The Real Of Me! Beautiful presentation. Loved reading it. Thanks for sharing with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
to be, not to be, ot to be fake! that's the problem =) great!