I hate it when people look behind bright smiles;
when they look at the underpainting of my heart
and find that there’s nothing behind my laughter
but empty white that lacks dream or purpose
and was only born to remain hidden.

She smiles because she's your go-to child
The one that gets all the praise
The one who accepts all your rage
Even as she's growing
You won't ever know it
Because hormones are bad
And mood-swings won't ever be had
Even though she hates it
She smiles as she fakes it
Her facade or innocence
Is quite actually painfully brilliant
She has everyone around her finger
Though the tightness of it always stings her
She smiles as she's called sweet
Kind and lovely
Smart and hardworking
Honest and trustworthy
Strong and preserving
Beautiful and genuine
Because she's not she's
Mean and unlikeable
Dumb and lazy
A liar and unhonest
Ugly and fake
But somehow no one sees
Her broken and horrid self
Through her sickly sweet
Kind and innocent
Full of joy and love
Fake facade

every night before i go to bed,
i craft my mask
for my upcoming performance of course!
perfectly powdered cheeks, flawless.
lashes curled, a rosy smile-
always a smile.
Silent, Unseen,
always a smile.

in the cold, dark glass,
i look at myself in the mirror's depths.
the real me.
i see a twisted, gnarled mess.
a frown, eyes brimming with distress.
torn apart by her cruel mind.

how i wish the mask would set in,
so i wouldn't have to prepare this facade,
every.
single.
day.

I'm tired.

What if,
I don't have the will to craft the mask tonight?
What if I simply indulge in slumber's gentle light?
Without the weight of the mask upon my sight?

no.

they won't accept me.
and i cannot bear their disdain you see,
and so,
the everlasting performance, it must be.

Does maturity
dress itself
just to fit in
while your
raw
spirit
undresses it
every
single
time?