Minutes pass day by day but the same thing remains.  Inner demons tearing the seams of the soul wailing for a chance to be heard. Forced smiles, false laughs, masks painted by the banshees themselves unrecognizable to the viewers eye. The appearance from the eyes looks like summer but feels like the frost from the winter. The words sound of clarity from the rains of spring but represent a dryness from fall. Misalignment, dis-alignment, nothing of the sort to be let known for the fear of disappointment. Not for yourself but for others. Not to be seen for the unspoken truth of not being good enough for the world that took you under its wing against your will. Degraded, suppressed, all worth striped of meaning for those exact reasons that you hide your face in crowds so no one can see the Unbearing truth of reality. It gets worse and worse each day you hear the lie from his lips which only ends in more places to apply your makeup. The shame beats down on you like a blistering flame after its wrath has been contained for too long that you believe the spitting so called "truth" being fed to you on a shinning silver platter. How long do you have til those demons unravel the unseen beauty that nests somewhere unknown? I'm counting down each minute that passes during each day to the final place where your mask can be shed and your worth can be defined.