I took off my party dress.
And wiped my lipstick clean.
My cheeks were stained with oil pens,
and my knees were bent and unseen.

I found fault in my lashes,
as I took off my silly facade.
I took pride in all of my ashes,
but swallowed my fear once I pushed them aside.

My knuckles were scarred with pin holes,
and my stomach was lined with regret.
My eyes were masked with the misery,
and the feeling was one I couldn't forget.

My heels were meant for decieving,
but my fingers were laced with the truth.
I couldn't capture the honesty,
so it fell from my wrists with a thud.

I cried when I heard the curtain,
shatter and show me on stage.
A wounded girl with no armor or metal,
just chiffon and an ugly bouquet.

Leave me to shackle my madness,
to the post at the foot of my bed.
Then forget the grey of my skin,
and make it as if I had never been.

I lost all my silver in ruins,
then lost my sane and my whim.
Along with the breeze, but no wind,
I was rejected, with no where to begin.