Pretending is more challenging

Then accepting reality.

So why pretend?

Why keep up the act?

 

I don’t.

 

Simplicity is a desire

In a life so complicated.

Keep it real

Or loose your cool.

Life’s a tenuous string—

Too fragile to muddle the truth,

 

So I don’t.

 

When thoughts are lurking in your brain—

Like spring hoarfrost on the brown grass—

Why pretend that things are peachy?

Just to save a little face?

 

Me, too.

 

When the fortress you thought you build so well

Is but a rubble pile cast around you,

Do you sit and weep amongst the bricks and dust?

Do you long for someone to pick you up—

Comfort you?—

Set you back on confident feet?

 

I don’t.

I pick up the pieces.