Make Believe

I was born beneath voices

that swallowed mine whole.

A house where silence

spoke louder than soul.

Where praise was a stranger,

and worth wore disguise,

so I built better versions

of me out of lies.

Each story I spun

was a thread from my chest,

stitched into armour

to look like the best.

Not for glory, nor fame,

but to be someone seen.

Someone who mattered,

not a footnote between.

The lies, they grew legs,

learned to run without me,

and I chased them for years

through the guilt and debris.

I smiled through the rot

of a truth never told.

Watching false warmth

turn honest hearts cold.

But I never meant harm,

I just needed to feel

like I mattered to someone,

like my voice could be real.

So if one day I tell you

the truth underneath,

know it’s not weakness,

it’s me finding peace.

Not all lies are monsters,

some are just screams

from a child who is small

with hands that aren't clean.