What's the Point

What's the point in being fake?

When all it does is make you break?

And being you so much fun,

but when you're fake, you're forced to run.

It tires you out and wears you down.

It makes you cry, hide, sob, and frown.

So what's the point when you're not you?

You'll feel much better if you're speaking true.

Reviews

[Allan Eddings]

The sincerity in this piece is almost painful, every line appears to have a familiarity with the deception we all play every day with everyone. It is that pang of guilt elicited that makes this piece rise above ordinary.

I enjoy the fact that the author or narrator believes that one can truly project an objective truth. I confess while I entertain the hope that the author or narrator is right in this, I unfortunately feel that nothing we display to the world is true. Surely in every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there are in the world, some of its imaginings, are a secret to the heart dearest to it! Therein lies something of the awfulness of Death itself, I think no? It is the secret that was always in individuality I believe, and we shall carry it to our life's end. But perhaps I am too cynical? It is likely. As I said I do earnestly wish that what the author or narrator claims can be realised, that we can be truly ourselves to others.

My ramblings cease I promise! And sorry. This is the first of yours I have read, and as you can tell - I hope - I enjoyed it immensely. Any piece that makes me think, or ponder, is a work I am guaranteed to enjoy. Bravo! I will have to read more of your work.

A.E.

[karo]

very true!