PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The world sees a young boy,

A quiet one, sof spoken.. not ill-begotten.

Someone easily pushed around,

Easily commanded against his will.

"Nice guys finish last" echos from the

mouths of vultures who flutter around

waiting for this boy to fall.

To never get back up.

Hoping the weight of the world will hold him down

Thinking the pressure will crack him,

and spill forth his altar ego.

This is what the world sees, but it is but a mask.

Molded and fabricated then placed upon his face

Covering up all the trut h, replacing it with lies.

What they do no realize... This mask..

Does not cover my reality, does not mask my identity.

The boy has not left me, he is only shielded

by the man that has grown from this seed.

A mighty oak from an acorn, holding steady in the wind.

Not easily pushed, nor easily commanded. 

With a mind of my own, I set out to conquer,

all the persecution that has sculpted the mask

that seeks to cover the true beauty of my life.

I will never ignite an ember that dare rebuke the

true face of a fallen star... No..

I will remember the nights of persecution,

the nights of clawing at this mask, seeking to tear off

the false coating that has attached its self to me,

like a parasite slowly draining the life from its host.

No.. I will chisel and break the mold that would dare

cast another one into the shadows of lies and deceit.

Life is but hallway of doors that must be opened with honesty.

For this is the key to happiness. The pursuit of happiness.