maybe, one day
you will know that
all the faces
i wear are just
facades.
A poem for the December poem contest hosted by @empathiser ~ chosen prompt: Alexithymia...
I hope you all like this!!
"The loneliest are the kindest, the most hurt are the wisest, and the saddest act the happiest all to keep those around them from experiencing the pain they feel inside" This is a piece about how eve...
Not all people who smile brightly are happy, some smile brightly to hide the pain they feel from the world.
"Even the darkest of villains have reason behind defiance and rebellion, we're just too busy to see it under all the action and heroics of the supposed good guys" A poem of how heroes and villains are...
"Who Am I Anymore?" is a poem I wrote about how I change my personality to belong and hide things about me.
To the ones who thought they loved me... this is merely a facade.
I stumble into the bar, shouting for another drink. The bartender looks me over, trying to think. He wonders if I can handle another shot, but if I were him I would think not. I see her there across ...
In this 50s-style short story, Asha and her family move to a new neighborhood. But nobody knows their secret.
WARNINGS: alcohol, addiction
How well do you really know me? Can you actually see beneath this hard shell?
maybe, one day
you will know that
all the faces
i wear are just
facades.
A poem for the December poem contest hosted by @empathiser ~ chosen prompt: Alexithymia...
I hope you all like this!!
"The loneliest are the kindest, the most hurt are the wisest, and the saddest act the happiest all to keep those around them from experiencing the pain they feel inside" This is a piece about how eve...
Not all people who smile brightly are happy, some smile brightly to hide the pain they feel from the world.
"Even the darkest of villains have reason behind defiance and rebellion, we're just too busy to see it under all the action and heroics of the supposed good guys" A poem of how heroes and villains are...
"Who Am I Anymore?" is a poem I wrote about how I change my personality to belong and hide things about me.
To the ones who thought they loved me... this is merely a facade.
I stumble into the bar, shouting for another drink. The bartender looks me over, trying to think. He wonders if I can handle another shot, but if I were him I would think not. I see her there across ...
In this 50s-style short story, Asha and her family move to a new neighborhood. But nobody knows their secret.
WARNINGS: alcohol, addiction
How well do you really know me? Can you actually see beneath this hard shell?