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Description
Because of the way you held me with your callused arms, because of the way I saw you bend away. Because of the thorns lacing your rose of a body, beauty hiding the most perfect weapon of the Mother our Earth. The way your pink hands matched your pink face, shades less that your red dress that would never fit you correctly because it was a forced facade, the mask you wore stained with all kinds of makeup, with waterstains drawn heavy under your mascara. The roaming, clumsy, unfamiliar stubs of you ever-cold hands, and the heavy heat from the rest of you. The way you lifted a bitten lip up as my face appeared around the corner. Those exact colors you always wore and the way you avoided fashion in your own way. The bile and toxic sludge spewing from your mouth to hide the delicate frame of your pink lips. Because you were breathtaking. The garden of Eden was your body, your eyes the sky above, the unknown settling into the expanse of blue, the wheat field your hair, and the tree your brain. I've consumed several apples from you now,and my punishment from you, you the God is to be my untimely death. To roast in that pit of fire you've started around yourself, to bake to perfection in the hopes you might consume me, a warning to everyone around that you refuse to be lovely, refuse the love in hopes of godliness. Only those who've voided the fire with the element of their own know the true circle you call your inner hell. Those in the circle eventually close in on your mask. Then what will you do love, beauty, darling, sweetie, honey?
What if
What if they expose the rosy cheeks, the crushing loneliness, the blood stained hands and the tear stained eyes? Will they be driven insane?
You think so.
You think if your true self were here, if that entity still exists after being caged away for so long, caging herself in a jail so she might escape society?
The mask is beginning to crack slowly, your voice flowing out in a never-ending scream of pain. If the mask is taken then you shall have nothing, but if the mask remains then you are nothing.
You
Are
Nothing
And you remind yourself every day, a silent manta, an acute song. You're nothing. No one loves you like the Mask can. No one really knows. You aren't willing to tell. Your Mask is cracking and you're terrified, terrified to see what's outside the jail cell. Sometimes, you would reach through the bars and talk to your guards. They were disgusted with your rambling. You weren't the friendly prisoner they had grown to love. They sent you to group therapy.
You sat alone. You were the only one in this group therapy. The therapist never showed up. The Mask had scared her away, shielding your fragile self from it.
So you looked out the jail window. It was always night in the jail. You whispered through the Mask and the Wind carried it awake. The Wind made you empowered, it saved you.
It was the second most important thing to you.The first would always be the Mask, you told yourself. Inside the jail, you would get visitors. They weren't frequent. They stopped in for a moment to stare. The Mask would eventually begin to scare them. One introduced you to music. The Mask reacted well. But there were times when music reminded you of things the Mask hated.
So you usually forgot.

Everyone had a dark side. You loved seeing all the different sides, mimicking them.The Mask would often tort the side, and you would scare everyone again.

Eventually the side stayed dark, stayed angry, but the Mask smiled, and you began to wonder if this was simply life.

Until that day where the Mask cracked.

Description
Because of the way you held me with your callused arms, because of the way I saw you bend away. Because of the thorns lacing your rose of a body, beauty hiding the most perfect weapon of the Mother our Earth. The way your pink hands matched your pink face, shades less that your red dress that would never fit you correctly because it was a forced facade, the mask you wore stained with all kinds of makeup, with waterstains drawn heavy under your mascara. The roaming, clumsy, unfamiliar stubs of you ever-cold hands, and the heavy heat from the rest of you. The way you lifted a bitten lip up as my face appeared around the corner. Those exact colors you always wore and the way you avoided fashion in your own way. The bile and toxic sludge spewing from your mouth to hide the delicate frame of your pink lips. Because you were breathtaking. The garden of Eden was your body, your eyes the sky above, the unknown settling into the expanse of blue, the wheat field your hair, and the tree your brain. I've consumed several apples from you now,and my punishment from you, you the God is to be my untimely death. To roast in that pit of fire you've started around yourself, to bake to perfection in the hopes you might consume me, a warning to everyone around that you refuse to be lovely, refuse the love in hopes of godliness. Only those who've voided the fire with the element of their own know the true circle you call your inner hell. Those in the circle eventually close in on your mask. Then what will you do love, beauty, darling, sweetie, honey?
What if
What if they expose the rosy cheeks, the crushing loneliness, the blood stained hands and the tear stained eyes? Will they be driven insane?
You think so.
You think if your true self were here, if that entity still exists after being caged away for so long, caging herself in a jail so she might escape society?
The mask is beginning to crack slowly, your voice flowing out in a never-ending scream of pain. If the mask is taken then you shall have nothing, but if the mask remains then you are nothing.
You
Are
Nothing
And you remind yourself every day, a silent manta, an acute song. You're nothing. No one loves you like the Mask can. No one really knows. You aren't willing to tell. Your Mask is cracking and you're terrified, terrified to see what's outside the jail cell. Sometimes, you would reach through the bars and talk to your guards. They were disgusted with your rambling. You weren't the friendly prisoner they had grown to love. They sent you to group therapy.
You sat alone. You were the only one in this group therapy. The therapist never showed up. The Mask had scared her away, shielding your fragile self from it.
So you looked out the jail window. It was always night in the jail. You whispered through the Mask and the Wind carried it awake. The Wind made you empowered, it saved you.
It was the second most important thing to you.The first would always be the Mask, you told yourself. Inside the jail, you would get visitors. They weren't frequent. They stopped in for a moment to stare. The Mask would eventually begin to scare them. One introduced you to music. The Mask reacted well. But there were times when music reminded you of things the Mask hated.
So you usually forgot.

Everyone had a dark side. You loved seeing all the different sides, mimicking them.The Mask would often tort the side, and you would scare everyone again.

Eventually the side stayed dark, stayed angry, but the Mask smiled, and you began to wonder if this was simply life.

Until that day where the Mask cracked.