Your fake smile never lies
nor does you daily ’graines.
Moody today, as you were
yesterday and yesterday’s day.
Another night you’re not there,
another morning too.
Charades you play, acts portray.
And excuses? You are a pro, indeed!
The glassy eyes, the stumble there
words that ramble, words that crumble.
A strange “perfume”, a constant sneeze
Twitching… pacing…spacing…
Your eyes not seeing but others are.
Forget innocence, grace and all the saints
a child knows… knows before the “rest.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a very powerful piece. i have been in this probelm not to long ago. and yes i knew before everyone. it was intresting to see me child hood in your poem. thank you for this wonderful peice!