Still haven’t learned to properly play human
The mask still feels foreign (my face)
The skin forced, sewn on me, like a makeshift puppet
The moves are pain to learn
Agonizing to perform
Constantly tripping over my feet
And messing up the lines I’m supposed to say  
And after the show is done
The audience is still not pleased
Always unsatisfied
Maybe they can see through the façade
(surely not,
I’ve put so much blood and sweat and….)

Or maybe this never was going to be enough  
(Even if I was real)
Regardless
The show must go on
So adorn your porcelain mask again
And play
Until there’s nothing left of you to feel the pain