We Pretend Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Sometimes we do pretend, we lie in other words.
We speak, a mix, a silly blend, we are like flightless birds.
No courage lives within, we are the dull and meek,
unable to stand up and face the demons that we seek.
So we are nothing in this world, the meaning of all things,
and what is worse is that our pretense has no wings.
We are exposed as what we are and what we ever hope to be,
and all the people see the faceless and a hapless misery.
You stand alone, propped up by shame and inner weakness, yet you think
that it is others who would sin and who would push you to the brink.
Look into glass, they make a mirror that reflects the real you,
then ask yourself to spend a day inside another person's shoe.