It’s easy to say things you don’t feel
And feel things you don’t say.
The duplicity of it all,
Like sheep in wolf’s clothing-
Dark and delicate like the last few drops of chocolate
From dying flowers.

There’s much to be said in the destruction of a city
Set on flames like a pyrotechnic show gone awry-
There’s a lot to be done about
Feeling that have grown obsolete.

Lipsticked lips and perfect skin that doesn’t lie
But the heart behind them that does-
Every aspect of me screams “fake”
In the most subtle but obvious way.

But if you ignore the paradox that is me
You will soon realize that we, too
Are paradoxial-
The gentle severity of loving hate.


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