Perfected

For as long as he could remember he had perfected the art of illusion, For he has never really been what people see, Only what he needed people to see, He was scared to truly be himself for fear that the deviant darkness within, Once released would know no boundaries. He wasn’t being untruthful or fake, just realistic in regards to what was acceptable to his society which included those he loved, He wondered if everyone was truly hiding themselves or was it just him, He knew that he would never really know, Because to know the truth would unravel a whole life of effort spent sustaining the image that cost a lifetime to create, And to be honest, He didn’t have the heart to break anyone else’s.