Pretty Masks

Pastel masks of perfection

designed to improve

our disturbing reflection.

 

Made too thick to look past,

it's such a necessity for some

the marks will last.

 

It morphs into our skin,

becomes a part of us,

makes everything fake within.

 

It covers the stains of our cries

to become yet another norm.

What a wonderful disguise. 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741