Here I am.

This is all I am.

What you see isn't all you get.

I am tears that slowly drop off my cheek.

                                                                  T

                                                      E

                                                                              A

                                                          R

                                                                     S

sporadically fall every time my head rests easily on my pillow.

Stress is wrapped around my neck like a noose.

Forcing me to hang it up.

I refuse.

Everybody views me as strong-

but I break like a porcelain doll.

There are pieces of me scattered all around this world-

buried deep in many peoples hands

My mask has make-up perfectly applied.

The real me has make-up smeared all down my face-

perfectly imperfect like a Vincent Van Gogh painting.