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Mar 8
every night before i go to bed,
i craft my mask
for my upcoming performance of course!
perfectly powdered cheeks, flawless.
lashes curled, a rosy smile-
always a smile.
Silent, Unseen,
always a smile.

in the cold, dark glass,
i look at myself in the mirror's depths.
the real me.
i see a twisted, gnarled mess.
a frown, eyes brimming with distress.
torn apart by her cruel mind.

how i wish the mask would set in,
so i wouldn't have to prepare this facade,
every.
single.
day.

I'm tired.

What if,
I don't have the will to craft the mask tonight?
What if I simply indulge in slumber's gentle light?
Without the weight of the mask upon my sight?

no.

they won't accept me.
and i cannot bear their disdain you see,
and so,
the everlasting performance, it must be.
forever twirling and whirling, striving to reach their expectations, a puppet on 4 strings, i must be.

3.8.25
hannah miller
Written by
hannah miller  F
(F)   
89
     Lyle
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