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Weakness is the secret of my character.
My jokes are blinding attempts to resist lashes of hatred.
My plastic smile contains haunting memories and grim dreams.
My tear-stained pillowcase hides beneath the mountain of blankets
To keep from judgement.
My laughter is nothing but an excuse to cry?tears of joy excused
For tears of woe.
My sincerity is my sentence to the world, my phony happiness
What everyone sees, even to those I have promised truth.
My stiffened upper lip quivers at words I cannot repeat.
My outer core I have built up sees the worst of the memories,
But my tender inside is still effected.
My dreams are high and hard to reach, my weakness bashing me down the ladder of life.
My poems are eagles, free and true. Maybe too true.