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I see him and I wonder: Is that the real him. Or is it just a front That he wears to show us That he's okay, he's fine; Living his life happily. Although he could be sad And we wouldn't know.
Somewhere deep within me is a very private place, It's a room that only I know, it's were I change my face, And every face has got a mirror, hanging on the wall, Before I meet with anyone, I pay this...
#augustwriteaday #theatre. Each day. Starts. The same way;. Painting on. My second skin. Eyeliner, mascara. The mask I wear. To try and. Fit in. Then begins. The production. My curtain call.
You know me.
On the street such charming faces Mascarade, a hidden plea Covered up with airs and graces Rouge and kohl, origami.