She is happy.
A smile constantly graces her face, her step keeping its bounce.
Her eyes dance to a sweet, harmonious melody that allures the gazes of the
entranced onlookers.
She is happy.
But she lies.
She is happy because they expect her to be.
Her glass heart has long since shattered, and as she mournfully gathers the
shards she hosts the most splendid masquerade ball the world has ever know.
Clad in thick, exotic robes, she delicately paints on her mask and welcomes
her guests.
She lies.
She breaks.
Her smile is a façade, a carefully manufactured fabrication.
True, the years have caused the edges to fray, but the cloak is still able
to conceal her sorrow.
She smiles and no one knows her pain.
They must never know.
She lies.
She breaks.
Yes, her eyes dance, but it is not the joyous ball she portrays it to be.
It's a slow, melancholy waltz set to a dreary, despondent tune.
The hard, cold, unfulfilling notes blare in her ears, a constant reminder
of her misery.
Watch her laugh, for inside she cries.
Watch her smile, for inside she screams.
Watch her act, for it's what she does best.
She lies.
She breaks.
Such a pretty little doll.
A perfectly crafted porcelain doll.
She is so numb.
But she smiles, and that's all that matters.
They play with her to their heart's content, rolling her fragile features
over and over in their calloused, unknowing hands.
She gives herself away and she smiles back.
But when they grow weary of her presence, they drop her and move on,
leaving her alone.
She hits the ground and explodes, her pieces scatter all about.
No one cares.
See her bright eyes pricked with tears.
See her heart splinter beyond repair.
But see her smile, her hideously false smile, se how it remains in tact.
But look closely and see the cracks it has formed for holding it for so
long.
She lies.
She breaks.
She is gone.
Before you flip out, I swear I'm not depressed. I'm still the happy go
lucky hyperactive blonde I've always been. I wrote this a while back when
things concerning someone were a little...rocky. I recently dug it up and
realized how proud of it I was, and so decided to upload it. And lo, the
poem before you...or rather, behind you :-P Writing dark things can be fun;
it's a wonderful way to express yourself. I may slip in a few more
depressing things every now and then while I work with my true fortes,
romance and humor. I've got 2 angst-y's under my belt, 3 counting this one.
Anywho, I realized it could be applied to a certain member of the team (my
favorite member by a hair, actually) Interpret as you wish. Criticism is
welcomed; this is only my second time working with this style of poetry.
I'm more of a sonnet kinda girl, but the story-telling way seemed freer. I
didn't have to wrack my brain for annoying rhymes. Yeah, so, enjoy!