This is a fairly new poem, and does in fact have a back-story. It's long, so hopefully one can understand something about the poem without a long-winding explanation.


Like ink
on a canvas
the lies you find yourself
reciting
just keep flowing
and sticking
and become permanent,
until it's hard to keep
back who you really are
and who you want to
be perceived.
This is the ink blot
on who we all thought you
were
and even now this could not
be permanent
except in the mind of those
who saw you
as something pure.
Was this what you laughed at
behind our backs
as we talked
in front you?
believing that you were
different
and you may still be
I have no proof except
what lies in front
of me
(and even then I can not
always trust this)
if only for the fact that
i am known to
shed tears to easily,
find faults to fast;
seeing what you want me to
and not who you really are.
You would think
I would have learned
by now
letting my heart get the best
of my conscious
until I may have none left
yet even without,
i can find myself
losing you
slowly at times
but when I see that
you lie
I find
it has begun to grow
faster and i
almost see the fade
into the distance
like a sappy
love movie i never
wanted to watch
but is stuck inside my
head.
That is what this is?
I don't want my respect to become this movie, or that
inkblot.
not when I know you can do better
than the people that you call your friends
and the look on their faces as they pose for the camera.
Because
No-one really cares
enough
to watch them
shed tears
for shedding clothes;
and then again,
they are the many
who you call your friends.
Is this true,
after all,
are you not the band that so many have
found themselves
rooting
for
wanting to succeed
no matter what?
and now, now when
I see who you have become
or maybe what you
were the whole time,
i find,
if i may reiterate
i don't care anymore
for the antics
i once found so
endearing
because
that smile
that laugh
wasn't you;
you are the one who searches
through Myspace
and waits for the
girls who you think
people would like you
for
to show up
only to be added to the facade
that is what we all believe you
are.
except those who really know
But do they?
But do you?

I had to read it a few times to get the full meaning of it, as I found the rhythm a little difficult (although you shouldn't really listen to me as I'm not usually one for poetry) but once the full meaning becomes apparent then it is quite obvious how much emotion you have put into it. I like it. My only bit of criticism is that


Should actually be "too" in both cases. Sorry, I have a hawk eye for those kinds of typo >_<

I must admit to being able to identify with your poem, perhaps knowing someone similar to the character it is aimed at. It sums things up pretty well.

Hey, I think it's a great poem but (and you don't have to change it like this, it's just a suggestion) I found it a bit hard to make it flow because of the line breaks. I re-spaced it so it flows smoother to me.



And what's the full title?
Great work though, I can relate.

I'm glad that you liked the poem! I know that there are a couple things that could be changed, but I guess I have this thing about putting certain words on a line or something. I respect what you said, and thank you for your critique.

The full title is: Fact and Faction In Those You Once Loved And Now Find Yourself Hating

Here's another short one by the way:


I told you
       How it moved
                    Me,
How each line
       Pierced my
                 Eardrum,
The sound of
         A misplaced
                 Symphony.
And you smiled
        Disbelievingly; sketched in every crevice of
                  Your smile.
So I told you
        I could
                 Show you,
Have it
         Reach you
                  Too.
And it began;
         Slowly at first,
                  Building up-
Lifting and resonating
         In the empty
                   Walls;
Bonding and forming
         Escalating above the other
                      Noises;
Hiding behind
         The furniture
                      Whispering,
Their song until we
          Have to strain
                     To hear;
Jumping to
            Booming voices,
                     Deafening
And beautiful
            In their
                     Surprise;
Rising on the backs
            Of each
                    Note
Barely touching,
         Each begging for
                     Attention,
  And.
            We.
                    Dance.