I question the truth
As the illusion is clear
The pain shows through the mirage
Of carefully constructed images
The empty show meant to divert
To distract
From the reality
Of the real love, not the dream
The fantasy on the screen
And, even though I am the hidden
Puzzle piece still
The question lives in me
As I watch the smoke and mirrors
Shown to portray the truth
I stand there wondering
Is it false
Is it a carefully crafted glamor?
Or am I
The
Illusion?

An Original Poem By H.R. Beebe