52 of 172

by Dallas Burkham

She played him, She plays me, Now she plays her. Trying to cover up make believe problems as if the 2 dimensional soul in between cant fathom the beauty of truth. Her reputation stains her skin for everyone to endure. She no longer can hide inside the wall that so helplessly crashed down upon her. Ignorance faded away, as the stage that she now stands upon, remains dark everywhere but on her. The spotlight rests so painfully bright on her, now. Its time to explain why you took advantage of me. Of him. Of her.

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Poetry: The masks we wear

by Dallas Burkham

Poetry: The masks we wear

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