i am no control freak.
i am a compulsive liar,
weaving stories just to see
where they will unravel-
sticks and stones in ponds
rippling effect upon
the ones who know me best-
who haven’t shrank
from my intricacies,
my nervous tics-
i’m so spastic
and no one knows if it’s an act.
hear me out-
i am lying.
i am a fake,
and you should never believe me.
i have descended,
i have unraveled my good-girl yarn
giving up,
no longer wasting energy
on the effort to seem
to be what others want,
be what they need-
an antihero worse than themselves,
a horror flick of a failure.
i buried myself alive-
and a scream of mine
will wake the dead.
hear me out.
i’m a liar,
i’m a fake.
i won’t accept this.
but my fairy tale nightmares
are myths,
and i am a liar.
hear me out.
–
written f16sep2011.
i’ve always had a bit of an issue with lying. forever been destined to be a fiction writer.
bonus points if you can guess what band i was listening to when i wrote this. there are three references, so it shouldn’t be too difficult if you’ve got the same taste in music as i.
–
idiography 