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.


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