Porcelain Mask

Sun, 09/21/2014 - 23:02 -- rwikel

I wish someone would ask why my mask is cracked

I wish they would pry it away and find the scars under it I hide

to expose the rotting peeling flesh of depression

and the putrid green colouration of anxiety 

to see that smiling eyes are not always an indication that everything is alright

that I am not fine

To see the words carved into my skull 

hopeless, usless, pointless, careless


enscribed into my mind

a consistant reminder the mask is there for a reason

a mask I must never remove


I must wear it like a second skin

until my real one falls apart at the seams of my sanity

insanity quelled by smiling silence 

the smiling silence of the perfect daughter

a doll to be put on display for others to consume 

drink the porcelain in until it cuts their throats

grasping out 

When I and only I know I'm broken

cracked, chipped, ever so slightly that you can't tell unless you stare

but once you do 

you wish you hadn't 




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