I step onto the stage

ready to entertain,

but people do not know

Behind the curtain

I left my shame.

Fantasies are what they are seeing.

What draws you into hell?

Why do they bother hearing

another lie I have to tell?

 

Here's my story to tell:

Had a heart, had a brain

was young and pure,

loved enough to call me insane.

You'd think my affection could lure,

but it's not what you think.

It makes me vulnerable,

it makes me weak.

You'd think I'd be curable,

you'd think I'd be sweet...

But what I show outside is only a part of me.

 

"You're so pretty."

I admire the rain outside my window,

I despise the sun that hits my skin,

My body reacts peacefully in the cold

My eyes do not see the beauty within.

I see beauty everywhere and in everyone'

but still no matter how hard I fight to see,

I do not see anything beatific or valuable to me

 

"What's wrong?"

What's wrong with me?

There's the poor, there is war,

why bother asking me?

Why do you ask what's wrong when

mothers' are morning for their child?

Why do you try to wipe my tears?

Help others, let me suffer.

That's not your responsibility

to make sure I am okay.

I am a mess, I am a burden.

Please, let me be. Okay?

 

What I say:

"Be ready for whatever more weight you have to carry!

You might not have enough strength,

Heavily ill or mentally crazy,

You still need to be ready!"

 

What I really think:

"You are not ready! Do not try! Know your place!

You're not pretty! You're not worth it!

You need help! You can't escape!"

 

I am about to perform on stage

ready to entertain,

still people do not know 

Behind the curtain

There is more than shame...

My once warm heart is now turned to ice,

 

only admiring with their eyes,

Cluelessly caught into their own demise, 

as if they are all willingly to be hypnotized.

 

I bow. 

They applause.

End of play.