Behind the Mask

A fully bloomed rose outside,
A withering lily inside,
A smile on her lip, a sparkle in her eye,
A cry in her mind, a tear in her heart.

Everyone likes her for who she is,
Joyful company and fun she is.
But no one understands her real core,
Her life’s not gold, but it is an ore.

A free bird ready to fly,
If she was so, she’d now be in the sky,
A caged heart, and anguished mind,
Fed up of pleasing and being kind.

Her life is envied by one and all,
Jealousy, Expectations, Pride and Falls-
These fill up her life and make it dark.
Her life’s not the moon, but d black velvet around.

Wallowing in self pity when she’s alone,
Partying and laughing with both friends and foes,
Here is an example whose life’s a mist,
She is on her quest to find hope, joy and bliss..


(one of my much older works that i recently stumbled upon)

My Dying Love

My Dying Love don’t you pray for me,
There’s no such thing as immortality,
There was you, then there was me in pain,
Hurt, Battered, bruised in hopeless disdain,
No secret smiles, no love so deep,
Could make up for all the tears I weep.

My Dying love, there you lay,
Amidst the cold and dark enslaved,
The heart that once beat
in tune with mine now pierced.
As I walk away I will not cry,
Your serpent tongue bled me dry.

I try and reach out to you once more,
Then I realize you’re no more.

Though once bitten shy twice,
Crawled to the altar of sacrifice,
Endured driving you in your hearse,
Your lifeless body, much less the curse,
But was easier than tormented moments,
With you in the flesh and so alive.

Sickened by you,
Believed your ruse,
Now crowded pews,
Singing funeral tunes.

As I walk away I will not cry,
Your serpent tongue bled me dry.