I feel like a fraud.
Like
everything that I am to people,
I tricked them into believing.
And one day,
they'll wake up
and realize who I really am.
And they'll leave.
And I'll be standing at the door,
begging them to come back.
Lots of people have left.
Some have stayed.
So how long do I have
before they see me
for who I really am?
YOU ARE READING
Butterfly Kisses and Other Miracles
PoetryPoetry about a girl and her thoughts. Poetry about unsaid yet so sorely felt emotion. Poetry. Be gentle. You're holding my heart.
