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The Middle Of Being Fake And Being Real

Remorse busts open the doors to my life,
Like a ravage wind
Tearing down a house
And once again
I am forced to admit my faults.
I am not perfect,
I am real,
But I'm not lacking in the personality department.
I choose to lie;
A form of protection to myself and others.
Why tell the truth
If it does more harm than good?
And it is when I lie
That remorse comes crashing through my door
Telling me that
I'm caught in the middle
Of being real and being fake.


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