Smoke and mirrors have thrown me here,
Into a world of pure isolation.
Dreams of perfection race through my mind,
Running me into frustration.
The mask I wear laces through my long, brown hair,
It took seven years to design it.
Now I realize that my intricate disguise,
Makes others think I am fine, but..
I am not the person I pretend to be,
This porcelain, smiling girl.
I am flawed; I am me.
I need to show that to the world.
So with some purple safety scissors,
I begin to cut right through,
Then I look down and say to the broken mask,
“I am done with you”.
Out into the sun I rise,
Breathing in the intoxicating air.
And I can see through my dark green eyes,
That the place I was looking for, I’m there.