If I showed you the real me, you’d faint from the reality. Should I wipe away the fake, you’d realize just how cake faced I am. I pile on shimmery hues of teal to hide the blues I truly feel. Why should I wipe them away and leave the real blues on display? Shades of rose on lips of peach coat lies that lay just out of reach. No finger has yet silenced me, but each glossy layer costs dignity. Eyelashes coated in a sticky heap--stuck to the testimony they must keep. But if there be a moment of weakness, a murky puddle; an ugly mess, I shall cower in fear from the tear; the rain that removes my mask; a flood that exposes my past. My reputation is gone. No brave face can remain. Goodbye, cake face. Hello, pain.
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