Everyone is a best friend never a friend. Everyone is in a state of love never in love. Everyone sees the truth never tells it. Everyone tells a plot line never an entire story. Everyone seems to smile never happy. Everyone is everybody never themselves. Life moves in a constant state of make-believe calling it Reality.
Who are we? Sleepwalkers daydreaming. Or reality checks out as fiction checks in. A form of solace or refuge; or a poor man’s run from what seems doom. Lets hide behind a facade a mask the ugly faces we wear shall be our past.