She stands up strait to balance the weight that is pulling her back.
She wears a smile to distract from her worn eyes.
She helps others because she so desperately needs it.
The only reason she doesn't self inflict is then people will know.
She eats very little because her heart has sunk to her stomach.
She drinks a lot to allow her to cry later.

She's so broken she seems whole to you.

Here, hold my open palms.
I think I am finally ready.

To put my past on mute.
To be played on a new song.
To surrender my heartbeat to your tapping feet.
To sway.
To dance to an unknown tune.

Take my empty hands.
Take my free soul.
Take my dying crazy.
Take my loneliness as I grow old.
Come.
Take me forever
until my heart is dead and cold.

A stranger may look on in wonder,
Curious of its splendor.
They may ask,
"Who made this mask?"
And With a heavy sigh,
I'll curtly reply:
"The mask is of my own design,
I made it faultless, line by line."

They'll look on in perplex.
Then comment next,
"What purpose does it serve?"
My answer, "To preserve."
They'll give a questioning look,
And my eyes will be those of a crooke.
"To preserve a broken state,
Which has been rather ill of late.
Behind this mask,
Lies an ungodly task.
The broken soul,
Is ***** as coal.
The bleeding heart,
Needs a jump start.
The shattered mind,
Could use a new shine...

But to speak of more,
Is to open a horrendous door.
There is so much pain,
Anyone else would fain."

They'll continue to stare at me,
"May i ask.. if I may see?"

I'll pause. And think.
Before I speak,
"If I let you behind my mask,
There is but one thing I ask.
Look around with care,
I can't take another tear."