Playing Pretend

I don't think I'll ever be able

to tell anyone who I am –

really who I am.

Not even my 'great' love –

if I manage to get past the mediocrity

that surrounds my entire existence.

For I lack the words that I need,

the ability, the knowledge, the skill –

the desire to be more.

Resting, contented, in my limitations

while thrashing from within

without escape or relief

from my tongue's cruel imprisonment.

But I am the one who secured the lock

and swallowed down the key,

feeling it grind, raw and dry,

down my wasted throat

that exists only to churn up bile

and inadequate professions of me

and who I pretend to be.

My pretend is so convincing

that even I, myself, believe it is so.

And such this curse hinders me

from ever willing any change

for I sincerely believe

there is none to be made.


Pretend is meant for children.