Armor plating to shield my soul.

A fragile existence thrice tortured,

Marinating in sardonic contempt,

Masked by a pretty face

And an empty smile.

 

False confidence,

False cheer.

False intelligence,

False strength.

Armor hides my broken bones,

Broken heart.

I look sturdy,

Unshakable,

But at my core,

I am glass.

Easily shattered,

Fingers bleeding while I struggle to put the pieces back together.

 

What is real?

Anxiety,

Doubt,

Weakness,

Hurt.

Build myself up with pride I don't have,

Exude confidence that crumbled long ago,

Throw myself into everything I do

And make it look easy.

Another fallacy.

 

Only one person sees through my eyes of plastic.

He holds me in his arms and whispers, "It's okay now".

I melt.

My armor liquifies at his touch,

At the warmth of his soul against mine.

Walls collapse inside me, never to be rebuilt.

The world sees the artifacts, but he sees the truth;

A girl who's suffered, longing for solace

That only he, and art, can provide.