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Rated: E · Poetry · Relationship · #1350718
Quiet reflection while leaving a pink rose on a friends grave.
Standing. Sitting. Kneeling.
at your quiet grave, I finally
let my "weary strength facade"
fall apart beneath me,like,
a mask that falls to the ground
shattering into a parody.

Monday's winter sun sinks
away behind this horizon
separating my darkness and
light, altering the line of
faith and despair, love and hate
faking understanding hope.

Across the miles of sky
would you hear me on the
other side? by your quite grave
should I stand up, sit down,
or should I kneel here at your stone?
I feel so self conscienceous here.

I'm still the hypocrite you knew,
that's faking I know where I
belong but I'm faking my direction.
I'm faking with everyone I'm
out faking the best hypocrites of my class


is your soul faded at all?
tell me, has my soul
faded out with yours too?
what do you think now?
I have to leave and I've got to
put my mask back on.

Should I stand up, sit down, kneel?
I hope that you'll forgive me
for the hypocrite that I'm still being
for all the faking that I still do.
can you hear me on the other side?
I'll visit you again, keep you up-to-date.

Standing.
Sitting.
kneeling.
walking away.



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