Dissemble

"You are such a bad liar

(it's true)

and oh, you never cry!"

(why would I?)

for my reputation could never handle

the admission of emotions.

 

That hits too close to home, you see,

and I deny reality

whenever it suits my whims

or my fancy

to make it so.

 

Years have seen the construction

of my shield made of words

it's cumbersome, unwieldy,

and I know it's grown absurd.

 

All to confuse,

erase, and obfuscate

my intentions,

like magic

or like magician's misdirection.

 

Getting people to like you

is so much harder than it seems

and facades grow like wildfire,

flames fanned

by scripted schemes.

 

And it's so hard to break that habit,

it's hard to be yourself,

when everyone is lying

and being someone else.

 

The hectic race of life

means someone comes in last,

and victory and laurels go

to those with the best masks.

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