On some nights, I pretend to be me. The real me, who doesn't hide or has no one with whom to confide. I think of the words set in my heart. These words can shift mountains and vallies, and have the power to take friends out of our lives. Luna calls out to her old companion. My eyes will grace the skies and ask it to reveal all truth, but then even he lies. The me that I am silence the me within; me of the inside asks not to be foresaken, but the me that I am doesn't want her to be taken.

This poem is about: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741