Pretend

by Kelsa Boodlal '25

And so I play pretend, Made up the role until the end.

Self contained into Pretty Ms. Perfect A role for which I’ve become the prime suspect.

But I wished for something brief —

Like a bouquet of flowers full of passion, courage, and the feeling of relief. Like a bud hidden with the primroses Or a fraud hidden behind poses.

It’s draining and tiring and exhausting, The never ending, forever continuing pretending. And I’m struggling to remember the real me, The me that would have given anything to be.