I learned the art
of subterfuge
as easily as
learning how to walk
becoming a chameleon
or a bursting firework
in order to achieve
enamored attention
or the bliss of silence
I twisted lies in my mind
to fit the narrative
written by other authors
who couldn't name
the color of my ink
so I let them
blend it with their own
because I believed
my lies more than the truths
their actions showed me
I became an Etch a Sketch
of personalities
to be what I thought
would please them most
lying to myself
over and over
thinking the hidden
version of myself
wasn't enough
a secret masterpiece
covered in a graffiti
of falsities
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