She sits as a mute everyday, 
when speaking pushes her heart. 
She looks with a stoic face, 
when a smile threatens to break her face. 
She listens with a tentative ear, 
when she is tired of hearing. 

Heed no attention to her, 
for she a lie. 
Heed no attention to her,
for she has tricked you. 
Heed no attention to her,
for she sits behind a mask.

A perfectionist is what you observe,  
A well mannered girl is what you see, 
a soft spoken angel is what you hear. 
What you understand, seems to be not an understanding at all. 

She makes mistakes, 
She make rude remarks, 
She scream her heart out at moments. 
What you don't understand, seems to be what you need to understand. 

You ask the girl,
"Why the illusion?"

She would tilt her head to the side, 
She would look at you with curious eyes, 
"Judgment," she answers. 

She would clasp her hands in her lap,
"Fear," she whispers. 

She would take a deep breath,
"Acceptance," she exhales. 

With eyes closed,
"Look away," she would say, 
"You don't want the truth."

And the mask would be back, 
And the girl you don't know would vanish again.