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I wear my
sober 'poker face',
While staring straight ahead,
And those who meet me stare right back,
And fill my heart with dread.
For on
the outside I look strong,
But inside I am weak
I put on airs that all is well,
Yet knowing all is bleak.
I cannot
let them know the truth,
I live a constant lie,
And when they ask me how it is,
I give them my reply.
I tell
them all is wonderful,
And everything is fine,
And life is as it ought to be,
Its 'oyster' is all mine.
But if
they stopped to look real close,
They'd see through my charade,
And then the clouds would open wide,
And rain on my parade.
I keep my
'poker face' with me,
Wherever I may go,
And keep my feelings bottled up,
And never let them show.
And just
as poker is a game,
Where some win, others lose,
I think that I am winning, but
It's just a damned excuse.
For I am
rather terrified,
To open up my heart,
For last time that I opened it,
They tore it all apart.
So now I
live my life alone,
And stay inside my shell,
And though they think my life is great,
It's just a living hell.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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