I am a liar.
The confidence I exude is a facade.
My true flaws are known only to me.
I invent fake ones to distract them.
I'm a scarecrow.
Do you like my stitches?
They fit so nicely together.
Do you like my smile?
I'm a product of stormy weather.
I gave myself feelings.
Imitations and actions to match.
You'd never tell the difference,
Betwixt a sullen thatch.
What a beautiful lie I've become.