Final Act

A beauty that exceeds that of all others,

graceful, soft, and never with out poise.

You have a smile that won't fade, to compliment your contagious laughter.

With a presense that lours the envious eyes of all who have been graced by your exsistance.

Your company is always sought after, you've brightened all their lives.

But then again, there never are any flaws when you're pretending.

No sense of self, your make up is flaking. What are you without your mask?


I know the truth and i know what you are. You're a face made of glass, with increasing cracks,
and tears that only flow when you're alone.

a voice that can't be heard, eyes that we're incabable of reading, a heart thats been misplaced to match the soul left in flames on the doorstep of your former self.

Your an actress no doubt, and the tricks you play are entrancing.

The scars lay on your thighs to be kept out of sight. And you evade all inquieries as to how you are coping, with the answer of "fine".

With out your lies where will you hide? have you no shame? Or has this performance out smarted even you dear pretender?

lost in the act of which you play so well, but riddle me this: what happends when the curtain closes? 

There you'll stand behind this fallen velvet with the shallow remenents of who you were.  

You have never been seen, you never let yourself exsist.

was it fear? or did this facade bring you some sort of satisfaction?

The answer is irrelevent, because you have drifted past the point of no return.

The only part of you left, will always be hidden, for it is to hideous to be accepted.

Your lost.
 
And no one knows where you are. left behind the curtin with the ghost of yourself who consumes your every thought.

Rest your head, dry your tears. There is no need to mourn for that which never was.