Real.

If you could see behind my smile, 
It wouldn't take you very long. 
Or hear the meaning behind my words, 
You may not hear so happy a song, 
But it's real.

 

If sticks and stones break my bones, 
Then cloaks and daggers peirce my heart.
But hidden behind my sparkling walls
Of teeth, you'd never see the bleeding. 
But it's real.

 

So I am, but I'm not. 
Just a filtered, censored shot
Of a moving picture, 
Where the light falls just right. 
And even the flowers seem to smile. 
But it's not real.

 

Now you see me,
Now you don't
A part of me, 
The best part, 
But not the whole thing, 
The broken heart. 
But if you could look through the act
Through the filter, front to back
You'd find volumes in the words "I'm fine". 
Instead, though, my paper thin walls withstand you, 
And all is well. 
But it's not real.

 

Am I real anymore?

 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741