FAKENESS

The bags which form

Underneath my eyes

Whenever I smile,

Are they for happiness

Or happiness masked by grief ?

I wonder if this is how I am , naturally

I wonder if this is what I want to be

I wonder if I am becoming what I wanted to be.

Maybe the bags are filled with water

Pouring down whenever

I try too hard to pose.

The pictures are always forced .

Faking something needs skills

I am yet to acquire.

But in reality I am the mess

Some pictures I hide

It shows a glimpse of me.

the fakeness protects the precious reality.

Which is cherished just by me.