We are kings and queens of fictitious lives
"our masks"
We are not ourselves because we are wearing masks.
The masks conceals our cheekbones and eye color.
It allows us to smile and lie.
We feel guilty every time we look in the mirror.
We are the only people who can see our own masks.
We are injured and bleeding.
We are struggling to use our masks again.
The world is full of mysterious things and creatures, including us.
When we see people who are similar to us, we cry in silence.
We know ourselves, and we recognize our mates.
We're all wearing the same masks.
We pretend to live and love life.
But life is gone from us, we died long time ago.
When we are distressed,
we turn to making up jokes and laughing aloud.
But no one is able to hear our noise.
We are kings and queens of fictitious lives.
About the Creator
Gloria Penelope
Every creative piece is just me, telling a story. Enjoy!
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Wild Card Weekend Recap: What Happens Now?
I think I figured out why I love Wild Card Weekend so much. It's because it's the first playoff anything of the calendar year. The NFL season starts in the fall, and once upon a time, the champion was crowned either on or slightly before New Year's. The evolution of the NFL schedule has resulted in the playoffs starting just into the New Year, and currently, the final week of the season falls on the first weekend of the New Year, with Wild Card Weekend coming a week after that. So yes, chronologically, the NFL's Wild Card Weekend serves as the first playoff anything of the calendar year.
By Clyde E. Dawkins6 days ago in Unbalanced
Comments (5)
Very relatable to be honest.
Gosh this hit me so hard because it soooo true!
Fantastic image by the way ! :)
It's a great poem about the majority of reality in between people and their masks it's hard to be real but still possible to live without masks and lies ...a tough life full of rejections for being real so maybe that's why people put on mask to be accepted by the mass screaming inside! Love the real writing of it! Its a great step to encourage people to put the mask off and become their real truth self
This poem is sad but relatable. Well done!