This is an extended poem that I was inspired to write. My good friend Angel deserves to know that I understand how she feels, and needs to know that I am here for her; no matter how far apart we are.
We can be broken, because no one needs to know. We can see that f-a-k-e smile, everyone else can see that "up front" mask. We see the true colors, the ones reflected in your eyes. We see the tears there welling up, while no one else can even hear your whimpers. I know how you must be feeling, so cry unto my shoulders, and feel that cold blade to your skin. It drips down slowly; were it pools onto the porcelain floor. Staining it just like your skin, soft like silk, fragile as you are, wearing that porcelain mask, forever now stained; I can tell that its s-u-f-f-o-c-a-t-i-n-g you, your sweating with the heat of so much acting; you just want to take a break. And the air you get is not enough, to keep the real you alive inside. You just want to take it off, throw it out, and let them see the τяυε being that dances in the night, that cries into her pillow, that hides her wrists because the ѕcαяs τειι нεя ταιε; who cannot truly, really say, if she has loved her life so far, because she never really lived it, it's been a fantasy, and she knows every line, and can recount every part. She kept up the pace, and kept it straight. No twist, no improvising; The lies always repeated in perfect sync. A.n.d e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e. w.a.s. HOOKED; you kept them seated, and thinking they knew exactly everything. But we knew, behind the scenes, the agonizing moments; the setting up and dressing up. It took for-e-v-e-r, so it seemed, to be this thing we needed to be. And the audience goes crazy when we step onto the stage, that we don't even care that we hate who we play.