Concealing more than revealing,
Forgetting more than remembering,
Talking much, saying little.
The triage of truth.

Black eye-shadow.
Black-eye shadow.

The pain of betrayal.

If we threw off each person's veil,
Revealed the darkness that exists in each,
Many would be taken aback,
A keen understanding we would reach.

There is bad in each person,
Some conceal it better than others;
They fret that their sin is showing,
To their sisters and brothers.

There is also good present
In all of earth's people;
Even the ones that we deem
To be irrefutably evil.

No human is perfect,
For we are a very imperfect species;
We thrive on the emotion that builds and breaks us,
The things that teach or break us to pieces.

I am not calling you to remove your veil,
Nor do you have to tell your sins;
I am simply saying examine yourself,
Your outs and your ins.

Know yourself better than you know
This complicated world;
Only then will you find peace
During life into which you were hurled.

How can I ever tell?
how can I ever know?
how can I ever say?
how could you ever grow?
how can I let them hear?
how can I show them tear?
how can I see?
how can I feel?
how can I be free?
how can I be real?
how foolish heart how?

Behind the walls are where my secrets lie
Where my thoughts take refuge from being seen
Where my emotions peer from behind the veil in hopes of being displayed upon an immobile face
The walls were built as a sense of security, to keep the outside from coming in
Few, successfully, have knocked down a wall or two, but never all
Because behind the walls is where my true self is concealed
And I refuse her access into the real world
A world where she can never be accepted

Moon needs not to conceal its scars
It grasps its own scars and light from the warmth sun
And instead of fading
it brightens more than ever!
When I found myself not able to behave like sun
I decided to surrender
And started reflecting light like moon.

Hot curling iron creating perfect tresses,
my hair is thinning fast, I can see my scalp.
Lush ruby lips as I pout and take a picture,
blood runs from them as my fingers claw trying to give them life.
Flawless porcelain skin like a chinadoll,
Years and years of scars are covered up.
Thick black lashes smeared with dark kohl,
Crystal teardrops create inky streams down my cheeks.
They flow and flow until my eyes ache and cannot produce anymore.
Mouth once filled with sugar now only tastes salt.
Exhausted.

Don't let them see what lies in the depths of your bottomless orbs, conceal it behind contact lenses and a thousand coats of mascara. Dab concealer on to cover up those blemishes – cower behind foundation because you can't let them spot those flaws. Mask the tremble in your voice with raucous laughter and disguise the shadows which throttle you constantly with saccharine expressions and pretty, brightly-coloured smiles. Hide behind your layer of lies which hugs you so tight you can't breathe. Is that imperfect perfection I smell in the air? Or is that your fabric freshener? They're the same, anyway.