the truth will alienate me, yet the lie stings so deep. It's a ***** secret shared only between myself and the pages of my journal.

I'll wear that mask of pink if it means you stop asking, stop sticking your finger in the open wound. I'll discard the blue into the closet and squeeze myself in with it, because the pink you see is no longer me.

It has my face and my voice, but it's laugh is a false impostor of my own, for I lost it long ago. Each time these words are uttered is another blade to my cracking pink shell, and when the truth pours out in vibrant blue I can no longer sit pretty and fake.

Because I have finally escaped my prison, and though your words may hurt. My shiny blue armor is strong and my indigo heart finally beats.

So go on and ask your silly question, categorize my identity by your beliefs. Because your words can't hurt me anymore.