Hard Is The Fake

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Rising in the morning
There starts a day
For you it has become
just another say

legs want to run far away
But your chair is clung in
utter dismay

Mood-swings are high
deep down you cry a
silent sigh

The face is same to all
lone eyes are scattered
with thoughts

Hard is the fake, you smile
As to hide the real , you
sense a pile .

To emote is not everyone’s
nature
But to gain the tough ought
be your future.

Still hard is the fake , now
you are unable to make
Write a poem , would be
done with a little ache .

 

 

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