Putrid looking liquid
It has no shine or color
It does not have a definite shape
It does not have a soft smell
It is not see-though or crystal-like
A horrifying sight with a deadly taste.
It is not healthy
It is not gorgeous
It is a dead material that can only turn into an unpleasant puddle.
It does not matter what it is
If not what can be created with it
What people call the most powerful tool can come from a puddle of ink.
They call it words
Words create ideas
Ideas create stories
Stories create motivations
Motivations create impacts
Impacts create change
And change shapes history.
Once you use ink wisely,
You will want to have as much ink as you could possibly have.
A crystal ball, with only one goal that it set for itself.
A crystal ball, with the power to change shape and color at will, whose only purpose was to satisfy.
It went around, looking for who it would be a victim of.
It finally finds a lonely soul, and with the goal to satisfy, it changes to the soul’s favorite color: blue.
Once it had finally pleased the lonely soul, the crystal ball went away, proud for what it had achieved.
However, the crystal later on stumbled into another soul who detested the color blue, so the crystal changed its color to yellow in order to satisfy it.
After that, it met another individual who looked down upon spheres, so it changed shape in order to please the individual.
As it met more and more people, it changed even more, up to the point where it had no comparison to its original look, all just in order to please whoever it met.
But no matter what color or shape it changes into, it will never be able to gain everyone’s satisfaction.
I put it on once I wake up; looking at the mirror would be too painful.
Once I get to school, the mask greets everyone with a smile, letting everyone think that I’m having a good day in order to hide my cries of depression.
Everyone in school knows my mask. Everyone in school likes the mask. I like the mask too; it keeps my secrets away from everyone.
I sometimes ask myself if people would still like me the same if I took the mask off.
Nonetheless, the mask stays in the place it has always been, keeping at least five of my secrets away from everyone.
Once I get home, the mask greets my family with the same fake smile, and I keep it on because my family does not deserve the torture to know me.
If they saw my face, doubt would fill their eyes, for they would never be able to recognize me.
At the end of the day, once everyone is at a safe distance from me, I take the mask off, and I let the monster I am reveal itself through silent screams and unnoticed tears.
I finally let my body rest in sleep so that it can be ready to repeat the cycle tomorrow.
They are flat surfaces that show your surroundings in their own dimension.
They are windows, made with the most perfect glass, in which you can take a look at what everyone sees when they see you.
They will never show you lies, they will just show your reality from their point of view.
You can always trust them.
Such a fine glass does not deserve your hate when it shows your reflection, for it is on your how they view your reality, and it is on you how you view your reflection.
Either way, they are just showing you their opinion.
— The End —