The Mask

A world devoid of afflictions,
Flestooned around in teal-hazed flowers.
Barren; of sorrows, of worries and woes.
Star-adorned for his mirthful face, so apparent.

There is no anguish to pain him.
There is no pain to perplex.
His is the perfect life, unalloyed.
And only if that were true.

But his frolic hides a heavy ache.
His glee hides a gloom,
About to break free any moment,
And deluge like the fire that consumes him, inside-out.

A strange fatigue sweeps over him,
Of being the jester to their miseries.
While those his own ravage his soul
To the very brinks of his life.

Yet, he walks beside, when you feel gone
Holding you up while himself forlorn.
He cheers you up, forever smiles,
While his frail self invokes to die.
His grin still masking his melancholy.

Expectations

Something to be done your way
You try so hard, there's nothing to say.
What they say is truly true.
Expectations only disappoint you.

What you want to hear,
Will never be said.
Promises to you
Will never be kept.
You face will hold a shock, not new.
Your expectation will only disappoint you.

The ones you want
Will never talk.
The ones you love
Will never share.
Your words will come back to pierce you.
Your expectation continues to disappoint you.

Don't they love you? You do suspect.
Don't they care or do they forget?
Do they only want to disconnect?
But darling, the truth is to never expect.

I tried, trust me I did.
Tried to expect just the littlest bit.
No reciprocals will you ever receive.
Just you and that quote will cry deceived.

And then you'll want to try again,
To expect and expect and expect again.
And in every turn, you'll end the same.
You swear not to repeat but repeat again.

Oh dear, what a shame.