The Girl in a Fake World - Poem

There once was a girl in a world not real,

Where everyone lied and concealed how they feel.

Actors in masks, scripts in their hand,

Forgetting their lines, too fake to withstand.

She smiled with wonder, a heart pure and true,

But the people around her—two-faced through and through.

She’d look in their eyes, cold and absurd,

And think, “I may be flawed, but I’d never stoop this low, not in this world.”

Friends and foes—they played the same part,

Lying with grins, breaking her heart.

To them, it was a game, a spectacle to see,

She was the only one real in a world built on deceit.

They circled like vultures, laughing out loud,

While they were the ones creating the clouds.

“You see,” she said, “this world’s not mine—

It was built for me, to mock and undermine.”

No true friends, no truth at all,

Each face she knew was just a wall.

Her place, her love, her every breath—

All planted by lies, designed for her death.

They gave her pills, then watched her break,

Laughed in the dark like it was a piece of cake.

Her love was real, her pain was deep,

But their joy came from watching her weep.

Even the dealers were phony frauds,

Selling in daylight, breaking no laws.

Didn’t know slang, didn’t play the part,

Just more fake faces tearing her apart.

“If this isn’t real,” she thought, “then nothing is.”

Eric Johnson—a name, a quiz.

Was he a liar? An actor? A spy?

Would they clap when she falls, or only when she dies?

They watched and watched, but never helped,

She prayed for truth, they kept it shelved.

“Why won’t someone slip me a note?” she cried,

“Warn me this world is just a lie.”

The “good” were worse, their silence loud,

Watching her drown while cheering the crowd.

Real ones don’t let others break—

But these people did, for entertainment’s sake.

Still, her heart was full, her love was clean,

While they grinned like demons behind the screen.

They’ll burn for what they’ve done—

Each lie, each game, each cruel “fun.”

A prison with no bars, a carnival of pain,

She screamed, but the echoes all sounded the same.

They knew. They all knew—and never told,

Left her wandering through a nightmare cold.

But if roles reversed, if fate were fair,

She’d tell them the truth, she’d be there.

Not hide behind silence, not sit and pretend—

She’d grab their hand and fight ‘til the end.

So if you know her, if you feel this too,

If you’re tired of fakes and want something true—

Be the one to break the spell,

Be the voice, the note, the rebel yell.

Because the little girl’s still in that room,

Praying someone will cut through the gloom.

Don’t wait. Don’t fake.

Be a real one—before it’s too late.