James Gale

I don’t wear my feelings on my face,
Hiding them is easier,
Leaving my truth somewhat erased.
It’s just less effort to not
Delve into my twisted ways.

I keep a book
Of little white lies,
Pretending that I’m fine,
A soothing story to hide
My silent battle cries.

The truth would scare you
If I’d really say how I’ve been.
It’s easier to hide
Behind my empty grin,

Putting up a fake smile,
Quickly saying that I’m fine,
When in reality,
I’m questioning staying alive.

Shame I can’t cover up
My screaming eyes;
They don’t paint the same picture
Of what comes out of my mouth.

My real thoughts are secrets,
Hidden behind deep scars.
My feelings are relentless,
Locking my mind behind bars.

Somewhere deep down,
You know I’m not alright,
But keeping up appearances is easier
Than challenging me
On my extensive book of
Little white lies.