…Hiding my emotions like an enamoured prostitute.
Or an actor, trying to make his debut on this twisted scale.
Harloting my way through life, a simulated masquerade, trying not to ‘fail’.
Beneath, this masked trade hides a performer. me.
Outside lies the judging audience, silent observer. THEM.
Only one believes the performance matters and fears judgment; from THEM:
Icarus with his smouldering wings.
Burning in an ocean of inexistent flames.
Written by Issa Dioume
Author’s site : Writing, Improving, Coffee