I’m tired of putting makeup on
I feel like a chameleon trying to disguise itself in the wild
I try to practice but the mirror doesn’t look the way I want it to
I go to school wearing a mask I made

I’m a duck trying to disguise itself with a group of swans
The feeling of regret when I look in the mirror drowns me when I realize what I done to myself
I can never edit my face the way a plastic surgeon does
When I think about it I know I’ll never be satisfied with
What the mirror shows me

If I only had an eraser to efface myself
The people’s eyes at school point to my face
I want to be a doll with rubbing alcohol on
Its face or
someone else that doesn’t show my true reflection in the mirror

The tears that escape me are not glue to my reflection
The makeup I wear
Does not give me a lunar eclipse
That I want to happen on my sculpture
The concealer never provided me coverage
It only silenced what I thought it wanted
I only wanted it to look as a newborn’s skin
Not some dried paint on a canvas

Concealer never concealed the wound that wanted to feel safe
Maybe it’s why I create new masks for theater
Just new characters to play - comedy and tragedy

The words that try to escape my mind would only be sent back from people only to label me a degenerate
Maybe the words aren’t mine to say it is what and who I am

Makeup does not hold a new identity for me but then
I question what I am shown in every reflection that points to me
When I am asked the question that replays as a tape recorder in my head
I become made up

My personalities are broken glass; never together to define what makes my soul whole
It’s what I’m good at - creating new personalities based on what I obsess to forget that the knife is still in the wound