Poem By LiLiana Lee

What if your grandmother whom passed away long ago, whom you admired and loved the dearest were to visit you in your dreams one night, in your hidden world, and say, 'Your Life is masquerade ball; the suitors sullied with deceit; you'll never find happiness in dark'
Would I cry or would you brush it off as abnormal dream? Solemly faliing back to sleep, Slowly my will to break free lessons, I'm falling will I be caught or will I always end up covered in dirt. My soul lost in the heart of time,
Still searching,
For something that'll seal away emptiness and
Free my inner being thats held captive,
for someone who'll see the uncertainties and,
blow it open leaving trailing dust as an response,

Acting out of familiarity I'd waltz:
Mondays: I mambo with intending to hide my lies
Tuesday: I cha cha so nobody could see my pain
Wednesday: I switch my mask to be laughing behind all the tears
It goes on and on and on

Behind all the anger and were the tears of indignity and behind all the comfort were the fears.
Everything you think you see was all only the façade of faces I believed to be me,
Was nothing more than the illusion of the truth.
Everybody on this stage we call reality
portrayed different roles.

The given role I have to perform

In this theatre of Life never really knowing
If I'll ever appear or dance through the night;
Yet the creature stood tall
And slashing its lies, fooling most
Will I always being trapped?

Ba ~bum Ba ~bum Ba~ Bum what is that
I awoke up with a sound of my panting breath, mounds of tears pouring down brown eyes, Shaft of light slants across the pale walls of my room confusion and anger are all that Appear since the curtains have been shredded,
It was all a dream, my brother lies on the ground laughter pounding out of him bit by bit His volume increases filling the room with amusement
My mask has yet to be worn
When his rises will I stay quiet until the curtain close, or plunder through and escape the Darkness, lies and masks and finally be free.

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Other poems of LEE

If All Was Lost:

If hope were to die
If remorse was to live
If love was not cherished
Would there still be hope;

In The Walls Of Buna

piece by piece,
my essence breaks away
Bit by bit,
I feel it decay

Bullying: Is Not Always Physical (To School Professor)

What is it, I am I just optimistic or pitiable?

My legs are weak as gun at point blank,
My eyes threaten to trickle with tears,