• The Liar

    by Emily Shifflett

    I am nobody.
    And not in the Dickinson sense.
    I am a nobody,
    Because nobody knows who I am.
    You see, I’m a pathological liar.
    So I can be whoever I wish.
    Sadly, though, that of course means
    Who I really am, is missed.
    You see today I have decided
    That I’m dying of a rare disease.
    My heart palpitates, my liver’s fading.
    I cough, I hack, I wheeze.
    Tomorrow, I shall be perfectly fine.
    And be a teacher for the blind,
    Who is herself a bit inclined
    To watching bobbin wheels unwind.
    But you will never know,
    For who could ever see?
    Behind all the masks and words and stories
    Who is really me?
    I am nobody,
    And yet I am.
    I am everyone,
    And here I stand.
    The liar has no face of his own,
    Simply dons the masks you see.
    No features for which he’s known.
    The liar is a nobody.

    posted to Cedar Street Times on January 27, 2012

    Topics: Young Writers' Corner


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