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True Colors

by Grace Guzman 2 years ago in sad poetry

April 6th, 2020

I find it easier to smile

Than to show how I’m hurting.

I prefer to help in any way I can,

Anything to seem asserting.

No matter how long I spend

In sorting out the facts,

Something secret will slip

Through the unfilled gaps.

There’s no way that I can open up

Without seeming insane.

I gotta admit, though,

This facade is becoming something I know I can’t contain.

Stability and tranquil,

It was all I had really hoped for,

But now being honest and true

Has become my own daily chore.

It all looks like a nosedive from here.

I don’t think my future has ever looked more unclear.

sad poetry

Grace Guzman

I write about what I like, poetry and my Top Tens.

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