Every morning she stood in front of the mirror and was ashamed of what she saw

She hated the kinks in her hair

the sea faring bridges of her nose

the fullness of her crimson lips

So she sought refuge in makeup

She wore foundation two shades lighter than her own complexion

wore hazel eye contacts

And 18 inch weave

And heels

And false nails

And layers

Upon layers of mascara

But no matter how much she drowned herself in everything that gave a her new identity

Her blood could not hide the undeniable truth

Her makeup masterpiece would be gone by the end of the night

And in the morning, she would have to stare back at the real masterpiece that she did not want.