The Act

Every morning I cover the cracks
And plaster on my mask
As I prepare to play the part of the perfect girl
Everyone expects me to be.
I charm the masses;
With my good grades and willingness to behave
In the way they want to see.
I discover the draw that humour brings –
As I perform the bit
And watch their faces light up
With a joy that never touches me.

I pretend I’m fine
By painting on the biggest and brightest smile
To show the world all’s well;
Even when it’s not.
There’s a hole inside
Where my heart resides –
Will the darkness eat all I’ve got?
They cannot know
How much it aches
To be alive, sometimes.
It’s a stain I cannot blot.

Inner chaos covered by the calmness I exude,
Which I dispense like a pill to heal others
As they spill secrets of their hearts and hurts –
And I absorb it all
Allowing the poison to soak through.
They unload by charging the fuse
Priming my cannon to discharge.
And I let them, every time.
The urge to help when it cuts
Is a bittersweet self-sabotage.
My own wounds, I camouflage.

And I only have myself to blame
As the role was cast in my name,
Believing my birthright was pain.
Now I’ve worn the persona too long –
My personality is the understudy.
Nobody can see
What it means to be me
As I shaped myself into a figure;
To please society.
Searching within for who I am
Only induces anxiety.

Seeking a solitary state brings relief
From the desires and demands at my door;
But it’s temporary –
A lonely place to live long-term.