The tears are there
They may not be seen
But they are there
But
I don’t allow
them to drip down my face
To tear at my mask
I don’t allow my Achilles heel to be exposed
in my eyes
Where
it becomes brutally apparent
and tears me apart
Instead
I will use it to make something beautiful

Do I cut a Sorry figure?
Well, that can easily be remedied
With a swish of a magic wand
Chin up
Back straight
Confidence oozing out of every pore
And most importantly
with a sparkle and a shimmer
The blinding smile
...
Hmm, wonder where my fairy godmother went
she seems to be rather late

They speak, they laugh, they smile.
They joke, they whisper, they snicker.
They have fun;
I don’t.
They are there; I am here.
Perfect,
a smooth layer of glass.
Not a single bump.
Not
one single
ripple.
Perfect,
cold,
apart,
alone.
But not entirely...still.
A word,
a phrase,
bubbling, churning,
trapped.
Desires escape.
Wants to come out.
Needs to come out.
There, on the tip of the tongue.
Clever?
Maybe.
Funny?
Possibly.
Me?
Yes.
But...
But...
Imperfect.
Thoroughly, utterly, completely imperfect.
And the waves come crashing down-BOOM!
Silence,
gone,
returned to placid waters.
Gone.
Click!
cage locked tight...
Perfect.