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Monica

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

5 poems·Since August 2013
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Desperate Efforts

November 28, 2014

 

     Normality: a fleeting illusion. The ones we befriend, on whom our sanity depends, hide behind a joyful facade.

     The lies we express link lonesome souls to each other: guise becomes salvation. Deceit dismantles the destructive ties of internal despondency.

Do such blissful lies do us wrong?

Our internal deception has no end.

 

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