Poetry #50

She's living
in a
glass bottle.
Etched on
its walls
Happiness, friendship
and dreams.

I want
to wake
her up.
But I
just couldn't
bear it.

She's happy,
even though
none where
ever real.

She's concern
on the
lives of
the countless
faces I
couldn't see,
none could
but her.

She could
see me
as well,
but on
a different
brighter light.

To her
starry eyes,
We live
inside that
glass bottle.

To her
I'm happy.
To her
we all
are happy.

I want
to break
that bottle.
I want
to wake
her up.

But could
I bear
that pain?
She'll cry
I'm sure.
She'll realize,
Most definitely.
Can I
do that?

Right now,
I feel
like lying.
Tell her
and live
in her
tiny lie.
Maybe there
To her
We are
living a
great hereafter.

Shall I
shatter it?

Right now
She's living
a trauma.

Right now,
I'm lying.