A False Front
Tears burn my eyes.
I suppress them,
hiding them from sight.
Straightening my clothes,
I hope no one knows
that this isn't the real me.
Swallowing my fear,
I face the crowd here.
I force a smile
and know, all the while
that everyone seems fooled.
It's no surprise,
especially when I hide
behind this disguise.
These clothes are just a shell,
one that I know, too well,
can be constricting.
Pride dictates, though,
that I never show
people the real me.
Well, esentially, I guess,
most people would supress
this detrimental shyness.
It's a condition I can't seem
to get rid of naturally,
so I just pretend it isn't there.
I panic every time
a stranger comes to mind,
even if they're not here.
I cringe as I remember
the anxiety last December,
when that dance was all the talk.
People asked me, left and right,
but I panicked at the sight
of all of the potential suitors.
I left them confused,
and I couldn't seem to use
the guise I had devised.
I cringe at the thought
and sink into my seat.
That's something I don't need,
to descend into a dream,
more a nightmare it seems.
I shake my head
and think of, instead,
the inner peace I have now.
I take deep breaths
and steady my heart beat
as I smile to the world.
This isn't the first,
and I know not the last,
because this facade is still running.
I feel myself fade
into this dark place,
one that I can't escape.
The spiraling confusion
is just an illusion
from the outside in.
I'd never imagine
how they keep falling
for the same old trick.
It's a spectical, you see,
and maybe it's just me,
but it seems so stupid.
Free to feel I'm not,
and I hide every thought
just to keep myself sane.
Though, sanity is relative,
and it's seldom understood,
even to the point of breaking.
It's a feeling I hate,
but I never seem to sate
the need to hide.
I just stand here and smile,
hoping, all the while,
that nobody sees through
the false front I exude.