Our Brutus

January 5, 2012
Traitors and snitches, whispering our secrets to the world,
Painting our true portraits, personalities unfurl.
The prettiest faces have the ugliest pasts,
Yet their walls are destroyed, false masquerade cannot last.
We draw crude grins on our grief stricken faces,
Stories draped in black are only covered, can’t erase it.
Our trust foolishly bestowed on our body’s Brutus,
Relishing in our thoughts’ "privacy", but then they betray us.
Screaming at the world that we wear a clever disguise,
The entrance to our emotions is found in our eyes.

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