Forgery

I have become a vessel into which negativity is poured

Others do not see a human being in me

If I were a paid therapist, it would make sense

But since I am not, it serves me no purpose at all

I am most interested in positive psychology

While they only want to talk about what is wrong

They do not care that this does not serve them either

They live a lie constructed from random scraps of me

These fragments do not even reflect the whole truth

They are merely selective pieces of their own lives

Just as we perceive only chosen elements of reality

And create our own world within ourselves

Admitting the truth takes time

Acknowledging one's own mistake can take a lifetime

Acting on a lie and building a life upon it

Is a Machiavellian joke

Scratch away the top layer, and there is nothing underneath

Like a new painting covering the old one on the canvas

This way, no one sees what is real

Because it lies suppressed and forgotten beneath

No one knows how to ask the right questions, since the new image is a forgery

Born of hatred and the desire for profit

Time will ultimately pass judgment on it all

But why must we waste part of our lives dealing with this?